


Time Step

by pterawaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Homecoming, Hospitals, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was the only survivor of the Hale fire and he decided not to become an Omega, a lone wolf without his pack. He didn't expect to wake up at all, much less six years in the future without aging. The mystery of the disappearing-reappearing Hale boy was too much for Stiles to resist, especially because Derek Hale reappeared the same night Stiles' best friend was bitten by a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this for National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo), so the goal is at least 50,000 words. We'll see how far I get! I will post each day I write, so be prepared for odd chapter breaks and the occasional typo. Editing will happen after November 30.

He finds it underneath Jennifer's smoky, charred, and collapsed bed – a silver knife inscribed with runes that Derek thinks look familiar, but he can't quite remember what they mean. He's not ready for this. He never paid attention to his mother's teachings, he's never met the family advisor that Laura loves so much, he's never had more than momentary control on the night of the full moon.

Derek cannot be Alpha.

But he is. He's Alpha and he's all alone. He will fall to Omega if he can't make a new pack in time, but who would he bite? Who could he convince to risk their lives to save his? Everyone he's ever been close to died in the fire. Derek has boys at school that he talks to, but no one he can trust.

He can't be the only one left. He won't survive. The hunters that did this will come back and finish him off. The only other pack the Hales trust lives in Montana and how is Derek supposed to get there? How is he supposed to explain to the foster care people that he needs to go live with some family friends in Montana, when there's no guarantee the Wentworths will even acknowledge his claim and agree to take him in. Why would they want another Alpha when they already have one of their own? 

Why would they want a wolf who was stupid enough to get his whole pack killed?

Derek turns the blade over in his hands, brushing the ashes from it. Supposedly silver is just any other metal, but Derek feels the power in this knife, feels how deadly it must be. There was a reason Jennifer kept it hidden; it probably served as a last line of self-defense on the full moon. Just to have in case someone in the family lost control. Derek doesn't blame her for that. In fact, he says out loud, "Thank you, Aunt."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Derek slips the blade up past his ribs and into his heart.

~~**~~

"Come on!" Stiles cries, stopping to glare back at Scott. He ignores his cold, wet feet and the way the damp air sticks his clothes to his skin and makes his bones ache with cold. Shapes moving at the edge of Stiles' vision make his heart race, but he tells himself it's only autumn leaves blowing in the chilly wind. "Do you want to see the Seniors' bonfire or not?"

"Uh, not," Scott insists, shaking his inhaler in one hand and holding onto a tree with the other, like he's going to slip in the leaf litter at any second. Stiles has seen Scott play lacrosse, so he thinks maybe his best friend isn't wrong to hold onto something whenever he can. "Why do we even care what the seniors are going to do at their stupid Homecoming bonfire?"

"Because, I heard that they're going to use Harris' car to start the fire. Why wouldn't I want to see that? Plus, it's the biggest party of the year. Never know, we might actually get lucky!"

Scott looked like he was debating with himself whether to turn around and call Stiles' dad to report the misdeeds of the senior class, or to keep following Stiles. Eventually, Scott makes up his mind and nods. "Yeah, come on. Let's go. I mean, Harris deserves to have his car burned, right?" 

Stiles grins, "Totally." He pokes Scott in the chest and is about to remind him not to leave physical evidence anywhere when all of a sudden the sound of sirens fills the woods. "Oh, crap!"

Scott meets Stiles' eyes under the full moon light and asks, "Run?"

"Run," Stiles agrees. Someone must have tipped off Stiles' dad, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, about Harris' car getting stolen. Either that, or whoever had stolen it was a moron and had been seen or followed or left the GPS intact or something. This was why, if anyone wanted anything done right, they should just ask Stiles to do it. And then show their gratitude, if you know what he means.

Eighty yards from the Jeep, Stiles notices that Scott isn't right behind him anymore. Shit. Stiles hazards turning on his flashlight. He uses a stage-whisper as he calls out, "Scott! Scott!"

An inhuman growl and then the sound of a body, maybe more than one, crashing into the forest floor makes Stiles' heart stop. It sputters to life again after a terrifying moment and Stiles hates the weakness in his voice when he calls out again. "Scott?"

"Aghh!" Scott howls in pain and Stiles almost falls on his face in his haste to get to his friend. He doesn't have a plan for what he'll do once he gets there, because at this point, Stiles is fairly certain that Scott's being eaten by a bear, but he'll do something, god damn it. He'll beat it to death with his sneaker if he has to.

Stiles finds Scott lying on the ground next to a fallen tree, clutching his side and moaning. Whatever attacked him is gone, but Stiles swears he saw a flash of red out in the forest. When he looks again, it's gone. "Shit," he cries, sliding down into the dirt next to his friend and grabbing Scott's shoulder. "What happened?"

"It _bit_ me!" Scott cries, grabbing Stiles' arm with his free hand, like he wants help to his feet. Stiles gives that help, of course. 

"What bit you?" Stiles feels breathless with adrenaline, his eyes scanning the woods around them for the wild animal.

Before Scott answers, a howl fills the air, echoing off the trees and it's impossible to tell what direction it's coming from. Stiles meets Scott's eyes and Scott says, "I think it was a wolf."

Fighting off a shiver that wants to rock Stiles to his very marrow, he loops Scott's arm over his shoulders and gives him no choice. They're leaving now. Scott doesn't seem to have a problem with that plan. After a few feet, Stiles hears something coming toward them and he freezes, pulling Scott close so he doesn't tip both of them over. Barking in the near distance makes both boys jump and Stiles feels the thump-thump frantic beat of his heart all the way down to his knees.

But then the beams of flashlights cut through the mist between the trees and it hits Stiles. They're search dogs. Whoever decided to crash the bonfire must have thought there'd be drugs to sniff out, if they'd brought the K-9 unit. Oh, and the flashlights are getting closer!

"Shit. We gotta move," Stiles insists, hurrying his steps and practically dragging Scott along.

"Ow," Scott says in reply, but he keeps up pretty well for a guy who's been ravaged by a wild animal.

Stiles gives a mental snort. Ravaged. By a wild animal. Stiles loves the way his brain works sometimes.

They make it back to the Jeep and out of the woods without getting caught, which Stiles is grateful for; it's too early in the school year to be grounded. That sort of shit is best left until, like, January, when it's shitty outside anyway. Stiles doesn't want to test his dad's patience over a few (really awesome) pyrotechnics and maybe a chance of seeing some drunk-girl boobs. Though, with Stiles' luck, he'd be way more likely to see drunk-dude boobs, which while okay, just aren't the same as far as the awesomeness scale goes.

On the way back into town, Stiles asks, "How bad are you bleeding? Do we need to come up with a cover story and take you to the hospital?"

Scott hisses as he lifts his shirt and Stiles can barely see the wound, but he can kind of smell it which is all sorts of fucked up. "It looks worse than it feels," Scott says, poking at it with one of his fingers and hissing again. "Nah, my mom's got first aid stuff at home. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, until lacrosse practice tomorrow," Stiles points out, turning onto Scott's street and keeping an eye out for Mrs. Henderson's cat, Winky, who likes to run across the road right in front of his car. One of these days, Stiles thinks he's just going to gun it and see what happens.

Groaning, Scott says, "I forgot about lacrosse practice! Coach is gonna figure out I'm hurt! What are we gonna do?"

Stiles scrunches up his face as he parks the car in Scott's driveway. "Find a Doberman to anger as a cover story? Ooh, or we could say we were trying to recreate a Jackass stunt and it only looks like a dog bite!"

"There's the dogs at work," Scott points out, which makes Stiles sigh in relief. Scott getting bit at work makes so much sense. "But I don't want to blame one of them! Dr. Deaton will have to put the dog down."

Stiles wants to ask why that's a big deal, but he knows Scott cares about those mangy mutts, so instead he sighs and thinks about it for a few more moments. "We could say that you saw a dog in your back yard, and being the bleeding-heart animal lover that you are, you tried to lure it inside. Only you were viciously attacked and it ran off."

"I ... suppose that could work," Scott nods. He looks up at his dark house and says, "I'm gonna go get some sleep now, Stiles. You should go do the same."

Scott's concern for him, even though Scott's the one who's injured and hobbling, makes Stiles smile widely. He knows after the excitement of tonight that he's probably not going to sleep more than an hour or two before he has to be up for school, but he nods anyway. "Sure thing, buddy! You got it! See you in the morning!"

When Stiles gets home, it occurs to him what's been bugging him the whole night: there haven't been wolves in California for sixty years.

~~**~~

Dark. Metallic blood in the teeth and fever in the veins. Must. Must bite. Must not kill. But the feel of claws in flesh, ripping through skin and fur, hot blood on palms, in the pelt. Glorious. Free. Wild.

Chase. Fun to chase. Fun to chase and kill and eat the slippery innards raw and gleaming in the moonlight. Not quite full, not quite time. But ripening. Readying. Growing plump and ripe and ready for the kill.

Must not be seen.

~~**~~

Derek wakes with a start.


	2. Chapter 2

Bed sheets rustle under his hands and a wealth of unexpected smells assault him. Something bites at his left hand and the skin on his chest feels wrong. Digital beeping drills into Derek's brain and when he opens his eyes, he figures out where he is – a hospital. Derek has only ever seen hospitals on TV. His family members all go to a special doctor for their care, even the human ones. Sometimes being a wolf skips a generation and wouldn't that be perfect, having a human doctor deliver a baby who could wolf out at any moment unless given a strict mixture of diluted Wolfsbane?

The pain in Derek's hand is a needle. Who would put a needle in him? Who would _save_ him? Derek is supposed to be dead, but he's in the hospital with needles in his hands and sticky tape everywhere holding it on and something on his chest that itches so bad, Derek wants to tear his hair out. Derek pushes the sides of his hospital gown open and pulls the sticky pads off, stopping to put a finger over where he can vividly remember the knife sliding into his flesh. There isn't even a mark, almost like it never happened.

Derek should have known it wouldn't work. As soon as someone pulled the knife out, he must've started healing. Shit, someone saw him heal! The EMTs, the doctors, whoever found him. Someone knows he isn't normal. Hunters are probably on their way right now to finish him off.

Wincing as he pulls out the needle (and half of the hair on his hand with the tape holding it in place), Derek flings it aside and starts looking for his clothes. They have to be in that wardrobe under the TV, or in those drawers. Or _somewhere_!

"Whoa, there!" a woman's voice says from the hallway. She has curly black hair that reminds Derek of his mother's, so he ignores her and looks in the cabinet next to his bed. "Hey, calm down! It's alright! You're safe! You're fine!"

The cabinet door comes off when Derek pulls on it and he lets it drop to the floor. "Where are my clothes?"

"There," the woman – a nurse, Derek guesses – says, pointing to a closet next to the door. Before he can get there, she puts a strong, but non-threatening hand on Derek's chest and says, "But hold on. You're recovering from a traumatic ordeal. You should be in bed, young man."

The nurse seems nice and Derek doesn't want to hurt her, but he doesn't want to be caught here by hunters either. So he does the only thing he can think of and growls. "Let me _go_!"

With a quick gasp, the nurse snatches her hand away from Derek and moves out of his way. Huffing, Derek finds his clothes in a plastic bag and rips it open. He is not prepared for the smell of smoke that pours out of them and makes him stumble back, gagging. It isn't just any smoke smell, either. It's the exact mixture of scorched wood and varnish, of wallpaper turned to ashes and upholstery melted, of paint bubbled and hair and flesh cooked – it is the smell of Derek's home. 

And it's his fault.

The bag falls from Derek's fingers and he stumbles back into the room. Water blinds his vision and he finds himself knocking into the bed. He falls into it and suddenly the nurse's arms are wound tightly around him. "Shh," she says. "You're okay. You're okay."

Derek is anything but okay. Fuck not letting the hunters catch him. They can have him. He deserves whatever they want to do to him. He deserves the shame of being caught.

He gives himself the indulgence of curling into this stranger's hug and breathing through the tears that haven't quite fallen. After a moment, she loosens her hold and tentatively starts petting his hair, settling into a rhythm when he doesn't flinch away. She must do this a lot. "I'm Melissa. Can you tell me your name, sweetie?"

"Derek," he says before he lets himself over think the consequences of giving away his name. It's just his first name. It doesn't matter.

"Okay, Derek," she nods. He hears footsteps stop at the door and Melissa shifts, her arm moving like she's waving the person there away. It's a man, Derek can tell by the deep timbre of his heart. He takes two steps, probably enough that he can't be seen in the doorway, but Derek can still hear him there. "What's your last name, sweetie? Where are your parents?"

Derek thinks about withholding this piece of information. _Information is sacred, it's important. Information in the wrong hands can be deadly, Derek. Don't ever forget it._ Well, he forgot it alright. No point to much secrecy now. It's not like he has anything left to lose and it's not like people don't know his name. He goes to school here. He has friends. They'll find out eventually. "Hale." He doesn't answer the question about his parents. With his last name, it should be obvious. 

The man in the doorway steps back in and cries, "Derek Hale?" Derek looks up and sees that the man is wearing a Sheriff's Department uniform. Of course he is. Derek has no idea if he's actually the Sheriff, or if he's just a deputy, but he looks old enough that Derek guesses Sheriff. People don't make it to that age in a dangerous life without being good. And only the best becomes Alpha. Unless everyone above them gets wiped out.

At the man's question, Derek nods.

Wide-eyes narrowing, the cop tilts his head and sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a few seconds before saying, "Not possible. You can't be older than, what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

Derek looks at the nurse – Melissa – to try to figure out why he can't be who he knows he is. "I'm sixteen," he insists. 

Melissa nods and stands up, though she keeps a hand on Derek's shoulder like she knows he needs it there. He does. "We did X-rays when you brought him in, Sheriff." Ah, so he is the Sheriff. "He _can't_ be older than sixteen. Not with his bone development. We were guessing fifteen."

"Son." The Sheriff steps further into the room. "Derek Hale was born in 1988."

Derek doesn't see what the problem is, so he nods. The Sheriff doesn't believe Derek is who he says he is, and Derek feels the irresistible urge to prove himself. "November 27th," he says, tilting his chin up defiantly. 

"Yeah," the Sheriff says slowly, like Derek's the one who's not getting it. "Which makes him twenty-two years old. You, my friend, are not twenty-two, no matter what some fake ID might say."

"I don't have a fake ID!" Derek cried, standing up, but not stepping so far away that Melissa has to let go of him. He feels the anger bubbling up in his throat, tightening it and making power hum through his veins. His fingers feel tingly and his skin itches, but no. He can't shift here. Not in public and definitely not in a fucking hospital. "Check my stuff! My license was in my wallet. It's not my fault if you people lost it! It'll say I was born in '88. Sixteen years ago."

"Shh, sweetie," Melissa says, her other hand coming up to pat his shoulder. "It's okay. It's just..."

Derek turns to study her and what he sees in the nurse's face scares him. Something is very wrong. "It's just what?"

"Son, what year is it?" the Sheriff asks, taking a step even closer, which Derek does not like at all. Sure, his eyes seem kind, but Derek recently learned not to trust first impressions. 

He feels trapped, like anything he says is going to be the wrong answer. He just wants to go home, except home smells like the clothes in the corner and no one is there. No one is ever going to be there. Derek hates how small his voice sounds when he says, "2005."

The adults have a silent conversation that Derek can tell amounts to, "This kid is nuts," and he steps away from Melissa. He misses the contact, but right now, all he can trust is himself, if that. Derek doesn't stop his arms from wrapping around each other and squeezing. He doesn't care that it makes him look weak and stupid and not like the predator he should be. 

Eventually, the adults must come to a decision, because the Sheriff says, "It's 2011. Derek Hale has been missing for six years."

"Missing?" he asks before he can stop himself. This isn't right at all. "No! Quit shitting me. It was 2005 yesterday! My family just died and I have to go live with my aunt in New York next week. This isn't funny!"

"Believe me, Derek," Melissa says, her voice serious, but still motherly and Derek almost hates her for the way it makes him want to curl back into her. "No one thinks this is funny."

~~**~~

When Stiles wheedles it out of Janine, the dispatch operator, that his dad had texted him an excuse to get out of dinner and milkshakes at Pete's because he'd found a missing kid, Stiles decides to forgo homework and show up at the hospital instead. Hey, maybe he can help? He's great at running the copy machine in the doctors' lounge. That can be his job. Make five-thousand posters saying, "Child Found! Is he yours?"

Stiles finds his dad talking with Scott's mom in the pediatric wing, just a few feet down from the game room. During his mom's longer stays in the hospital, Stiles used to wander down here to play Connect Four and Battleship with the other kids. The nurses made him wash his hands with smelly soap and wear a hair net, but Stiles didn't mind. He pretended he was an astronaut on a mission to outer space and it was his job not to infect the indigenous life forms with harmful Earth bacteria.

Using the food cart as cover, Stiles manages to sneak close enough to hear what his dad is saying to Mrs. McCall. "...know he looks just like the yearbook picture, Melissa, but I don't see how it's possible. That's _not_ Derek Hale."

The name sends a shiver down Stiles' spine. Everyone knows about Derek. His family died in a fire and then the next week he went missing from his foster home. Stiles had to go stay with Mrs. Ngyuen next door on the night his dad had organized the search party in Beacon Hills Preserve, looking for the kid. Well, teenager. When they didn't find him, everyone assumed he'd run away.

Wait. Derek would be old by now. Like, graduating college old. Why is Stiles' dad in the pediatric wing if he found an adult? What's going on?

"Maybe he's a cousin?" Mrs. McCall suggests, leading the way down the hallway, toward Stiles. Stiles ducks into a doorway and out of sight as they pass by. "I don't know why he's not admitting to it. Maybe it's part of his psychosis? Believing he's his missing cousin? The psych consult is already on the way."

"How long is that going to take?" the Sheriff asks. Stiles sneaks forward into the next room, narrowly missing being seen when his dad glances over his shoulder. "The mayor is on my ass to figure out who this kid is. He wants to play up the fact that I found him and use it to look good."

Mrs. McCall snorts and touches the Sheriff's arm in a way Stiles definitely does not approve of. What the freaking hell? "No good deed, huh? The psychologist should be here tomorrow, barring acts of God."

Stiles' dad says something else, but Stiles can't quite hear it. By the look on both their faces, he's sure he doesn't _want_ to hear it. Ew. So not cool. At least it'll give something for Stiles to tease Scott about. Stiles might even give his dad the old birds-and-the-bees talk. Imagining his dad's flush of embarrassment makes Stiles grin.

And then he stumbles into the room he'd first seen the adults standing outside of and sees a boy sitting on the bed, picking at his nails. He looks like he's about Stiles' age and is awkward-looking in that way you can tell he's going to grow out of, like the rest of his face is still catching up with his ears and nose. Unlike Stiles. Stiles knows that despite both of his parents being reasonably attractive people, he's going to end up looking like his Uncle Howie – like a giraffe mated with a hippo and nobody won. It's unfair, sure, but Stiles has come to terms with it.

When Stiles realizes that the boy knows he's there and is staring at him, he raises a hand in greeting and says, "Hey."

The boy's impressively dark eyebrows knit together and he demands, "Who are you?"

"Candy striper," Stiles responds without thinking. "Sorry, I forgot to wear the skirt." Stiles chuckles so the guy knows he's joking, but he doesn't laugh. His eyes widen before he looks down and he blushes red over his olive-tinted skin. Yeah, the mental image of Stiles in a candy-striper's uniform must be giving him some wicked second-hand embarrassment. "Joke." Stiles explains. "That was a joke. About the skirt. I mean ... can I get you anything?" He runs a hand back over his hair and wonders just how long it will take this kid to toss him out.

The kid shrugs and opens his mouth, but ultimately closes it again.

Okay, maybe a different strategy. "I'm Stiles. What's your name?"

"Complicated, apparently," he says before sighing and turning his intense glare back on Stiles. Wow, those eyes are lighter than Stiles expected them to be, given "Complicated's" skin tone. And they're not quite blue, like Stiles' dad's. The effect is almost jarring and then Stiles realizes that he's staring again. "Derek."

What? Oh, that's the kid's name. Derek. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Derek." Then Stiles' brain screeches to a halt. That's just not possible. Is it? "Derek _Hale_?"

"I told you it was complicated," Derek says with a nod. He hitches one knee up against his chest and rests his chin on it.

Maybe Derek _isn't_ going to grow into those ears after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning heading to lacrosse practice, Scott leans in and tells Stiles, "The bite is gone! I think I can play today!"

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Stiles asks, holding the door to the locker room open for Scott, who looks absolutely thrilled. Stiles saw the way he watched that new girl at lunch the day before, and he doesn't like it. Scott is not supposed to get a girlfriend before Stiles. That's not how this friendship is supposed to go. Lydia is supposed to fall in love with Stiles and they'll go to college together and be _that_ couple and after they both graduate they'll get married and save the world together. Scott can meet his future life partner at the wedding. 

But this is not Stiles' fantasy land, this is real life where Lydia doesn't even know Stiles is alive and mysterious non-aging boys show up in the woods and Scott has a disappearing wolf bite. 

"I mean gone," Scott insists, hiking up the side of his shirt to show off his pristine skin. "See?"

"Dude!" Stiles cries, pulling up Scott's shirt even more. "Since when have you had abs?"

Scott blushes and gets a dopey smile on his face as he changes into his practice gear. "I don't know. I've been working out a lot this year, trying to make first line."

Agape, Stiles says, "Well, it's _working!"_

Stiles doesn't say anything more, but his brain starts working on the problem, reaching a fever pitch as Scott pulls off some crazy-ass spiderman shit to make a goal. Okay, so the facts. Scott was bit by some sort of big animal that may have been a wolf, but definitely gave Stiles the creeps. Scott is now miraculously healed, he's doing crazy stunts he shouldn't be able to do, and Stiles hasn't seen Scott use his inhaler in at least two days.

Stiles knows the conclusion he'd like to reach, but he needs more data. And he'd like to go back to the woods – _before_ it gets dark – to check out the area and look for signs of– Stiles can't even think the word. To look for whatever the fuck bit Scott.

And if Stiles veers them a little off course to the place where his dad found Derek, well, two birds, one stone, right?

He wants to mention his plan to Scott at lunch, but all the lacrosse guys keep congratulating Scott and Stiles can't get a word in edgewise. Stiles' eyes wander around the lunchroom as he ignores the lacrosse talk, and he notices that someone is sitting across from Boyd. No one sits with Boyd. Stiles isn't quite sure why, he's never thought about it, but it's common knowledge. Boyd eats lunch alone. So who's this new person attempting to rattle the status quo? Stiles approves. 

He sees the newcomer again in study hall and for the life of him, Stiles cannot tell if Jaime Bitar is a really feminine boy or a really masculine girl. Jaime's skin is sort of a medium golden brown and her (Stiles is going with "her" until proven otherwise because once he looked up zygote development and all humans will grow up to be female unless they have a functional Y-chromosome, so it's basically the default) hair is jet black and cut in sort of a longer-Beiber that gives nothing away. Her clothes are too baggy to show boobs or a package, and neither particularly masculine or feminine. It's a puzzle and Stiles likes puzzles, so he's probably staring a lot more than what's polite.

It's probably the only reason he sees the threatening shove that jackass Tom Bennett gives Jaime right before the bell rings. Usually Stiles celebrates the end of the school day with a victory fist-bump, but there's something about the look in Tom's eye and the way he whispers to his friend, Carson-something, that makes Stiles uneasy. 

It's not stalking if you have a legitimate concern for someone's safety, right? Stiles is so caught up with watching Jaime's back that he does a full-body double take when he sees Derek Hale and Melissa McCall in the administrative office. What-the-what? 

If Stiles goes to investigate this thing with Derek, he'll lose track of whatever Tom and Carson are planning for Jaime. _Please, god,_ Stiles thinks to himself, _don't let it be dead bio rats. Don't let it be dead bio rats._ Stiles didn't get the smell of formaldehyde out of his hair for almost a month.

(tbc tomorrow)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. I had a busy day yesterday.

Shit going down has a particular look when it happens in the high school environment. Cocky looks are exchanged. Nods are given. Stiles learned to pinpoint these signs early on in his academic career because he was always the smart kid who said too much and occasionally the other kids took exception to his existence. The administration never really let anything get too far without serious repercussions, but that didn't stop the mild but annoying pranks, like "accidentally" knocking Stiles' lunch tray so he had to spend the rest of the day either covered in ketchup or wearing his gym clothes. It didn't stop the "loser" post-its constantly stuck to his back or how someone had switched his shower gel with strawberry mango yogurt.

Right now, those telling looks are all over the freaking place. They're not aimed at Stiles or any of the other usual suspects. This time, they're aimed at Jaime. Stiles normally minds his own business, because he thinks a certain amount of putting up with this crap is character-building and motivating. But this time it feels _off_. Maybe it's because Stiles thinks Jaime's probably a girl, or maybe because weird shit has been happening and if Scott is what Stiles thinks he is, who knows what could be making Tom act like this?

The hallways are almost empty when Stiles sees Jaime get railroaded into the boys' bathroom in the sophomore wing of the second floor. Oh, shit! This probably means swirlies or sharpie drawings on the face and Jaime is so small and weak looking, she's gonna get creamed!

Stiles runs and bursts into the bathroom, gut clenching when he sees the way Tom's trying to get a hand down Jaime's pants, despite her tears and the way she calls out, "Help!"

"Let her go, douchenozzle!" Stiles cries, using one o the only lacrosse moves he's good at to get past Tom's friend and then slugging Tom for all he's worth. The blow hit Tom on the cheekbone, right where Stiles had been aiming, but holy shit, that hurt! "Oh, my god! Ow!"

Tom glares, but Carson (seriously, what the fuck is that dude's last name?) pulls at him and says, "C'mon, dude. It's not worth it. You know who his dad is."

Fuck. Stiles loves his dad, but sometimes he really hates being the Sheriff's son. For once, can't he just win a mano-a-mano fight without the other guy getting scared Stiles' dad will arrest them.

As the goons walk away, Jaime clutches at Stiles' elbow and says, "I can't believe you just did that!"


	5. Chapter 5

"The pain makes it pretty believable," Stiles replies with a grimace. The way Jaime smiles at Stiles feels nice for about two seconds before it starts to make him uncomfortable. "Well, I gotta go. Lacrosse practice and everything."

He gets halfway to the door before Jaime blurts out from behind him, "Are you going to Homecoming?"

The question stops Stiles in his tracks. It's been Homecoming all week, with the game the next night, Friday (Stiles will be warming the bench like always), and the big dance on Saturday. Stiles has never been asked to a dance before. He's asked Lydia six times before, but she's ignored him every time. 

The question here is does he want to wait for Lydia to stop ignoring him, or does Stiles want to actually have a date to a dance? Does he want to go with a girl he just met because she thinks he's this heroic person that he's totally not? Ooh, or maybe going with Jaime will show Lydia that Stiles is totally datable and make her rethink her ignoring tactic. Yeah, Stiles likes this plan. He smiles and asks, "Would you like to be my date?"

Eyes wide, Jaime nods her head and says in this squeaky voice that makes Stiles feel vaguely embarrassed for her, "Y-yes! I'll go!"

"Great," he says. "Good! Grand, even. So, we'll make more plans tomorrow? At lunch?" Stiles realizes they're having this conversation in the boys' bathroom, so he opens the door and waves Jaime ahead of him.

She agrees and then runs off and Stiles feels pretty good about himself. Well, he does until he gets to practice and Scott says, "My mom adopted a butthole."

The absurdity of Scott's phrasing gives Stiles pause and he has to shake his head at Scott and glare, demanding an explanation.

"I guess your dad found some kid in the woods yesterday–"

"I am aware, yes." Stiles nods and makes a "get on with it" motion with his hand.

"And they can't figure out who he belongs to."

_Because he's a crazy and/or non-aging freak of nature_ , Stiles thinks. Again it hits him how much it must suck being stuck in the midst of puberty for much longer than is natural. Stiles, for one, can't wait to finally fill out and lose his gangly appearance. 

"So my mom told them since she's already a licensed foster parent, she'd take him in. Without even asking me first! And he wouldn't even say hello, just stood there, sniffing at me like a creeper. I have to share a bathroom with him!" Scott huffs in frustration and Stiles is sure he sees a flash of odd color in Scott's eyes.

"Hold up," Stiles says, ignoring the eye thing for now (but sure as shit he's coming back to it in a minute because kosher it is _not_ ). "Derek Hale is living at your _house_! Why are you just telling me this now?"

"Because I just found out." Scott frowned again. "She brought him by school last period to introduce us and get him registered for classes. He just glared at me with this scary look in his eyes. I'm going to end up sleeping with one eye open so he doesn't try to kill me and take my place! It's bad enough that something really weird is going on. I'm not even sure where I woke up this morning. What am I going to do? Something coukd be really wrong with me – like a brain tumor!"

"Okay, things we're going to visit today," Stiles says, clutching Scott's shoulder and pulling him to the side of the locker room. "Number one – you don't have a brain tumor."

"Then what? Some sort of virus?"

"You could say that," Stiles agrees. "Luckily for you, it only matters once a month."

"Once a month?"

"Yeah," Stiles replies, taking what little delight he can in Scott's thickheadedness. "The full moon is this Saturday and I have to say, things aren't looking good for you on that front."

"Saturday? But that's Homecoming! I was gonna ask Allison! Wait, why is the full moon a bad thing?"

Stiles ignores Scott's question and moves on, "Things we're talking about today, number two – when did your mom become a foster parent? And three – I seriously doubt Derek is going to try to kill you in your sleep, unless he finds out you're a werewolf and goes all hunter on your ass."

"A werewolf? Really Stiles?" Scott asks, punching Stiles in the arm way harder than he ever had before.

"Okay, _ow_ ," Stiles says with a grimace. "How else do you explain what's going on with you?"

Eyes wide with fright, Scott replies, "I don't know! What if it's true? What if Derek finds out and tells my mom? What if I can't take Allison to the dance?"

"Sucks to be you," Stiles responds with a shrug. "I mean, even I have a date."

Jackson Whittemore interrupts by clapping a hand on Stiles' shoulder and asking, "Who would agree to go to Homecoming with a third-line loser like you?" Jackson's best friend Danny snorts in amusement beside him.

"That new girl, Jaime. I was her knight in shining armor." Jackson's giving Stiles a weird look and then meeting Danny's eyes with a smirk. "What?"

Danny replies for both of them, "Stiles, Jaime is a guy." Laughing, he holds out his fist for a bump and says, "Welcome to the club!"

"What?" Stiles asks, caught off guard more than he would have liked. "No, Jaime's a girl. Unless either of you are familiar with her business first-hand, you can't convince me she's a he." Stiles looks to Scott for support and his best friend nods decidedly, like the bestest best friend he is, always having Stiles' back. This is one of the many reasons Stiles is going to help Scott through this whole werewolf debacle. Because they've got each other's backs. Always.

"Okay," Jackson shrugs. "All I'm saying is don't be surprised when you're making out at the end of the night and Mr. Happy makes an appearance."

Stiles opens his mouth to make a retort, but before he can, Coach Finstock blows his whistle and yells at them to hurry up. As Stiles changes into his gear, he wonders what he'll do if Jaime shows up to the dance in a tux. He'll probably just roll with it and not give Jackson the satisfaction of laughing at him for calling it off if Jaime really is a guy.


	6. Chapter 6

It occurs to Derek after the candy striper boy – Stiles – leaves that Derek could just slip out of here. It would be easy now that they think he's sedated. He could just stand up and leave. Hell, he could jump out the window. But honestly? Derek is tired. Nothing makes sense and he just wants his mom to come back and tell him everything's going to be okay.

Derek would try killing himself again to ease the pain that blossoms in his chest and makes it hard to breathe when he realizes that not only is his entire family dead, but they've been dead for six years. He would try, but he'd probably fail again. Maybe whatever had saved his life the first time would keep doing it again and again. Maybe Derek can never die.

Plus, if he dies now, he'll never figure out what the hell is wrong with that Stiles kid, a puzzle that nags at the back of Derek's brain until he can't _not_ think about it.

It reminds Derek of the way he thought about Kate after he'd first met her and he wonders if she's still alive six years later. She must be really old by now. Old and slower, easier to overpower and kill the way Derek couldn't the last time he'd seen her. It felt like just three days ago to him, the pain of Kate's bullets taking his breath away and the anger he felt when she expressed her regrets at not having any wolfsbane on hand. 

"Why don't you just kill me too?" he'd asked, coughing blood and spitting it on the floor as he tried to sit up. He was an alpha now, harder to kill, but it could be done. All Kate would have to do was shoot him in the head and then cut him in half. Why couldn't she just do that for him?

"Because," Kate had replied with a sarcastic pout, "it's just more fun this way. See you around, sweetie!"

Sitting in his hospital bed, Derek dries his wet eyes on the scratchy sheets wrapped around him and tries to clear his mind of everything, the way his mother had taught him. Her meditation techniques are useful for avoiding shifting in public, and they can help now as well. He tries to anchor himself on the thought of his family, like he always had before, but that just makes him feel less stable, not more. He needs something other than the gnawing pit of anger in the bottom of his stomach and the growing conviction that the way to go from here is definitely to go for revenge. He needs someone.

But Derek has no one. Everyone is either dead, or thinks he's been missing for six years and has moved on. The closest he has to a friend now is Stiles, and he doesn't even know the kid's first name. The closest he has to a parent is the nurse that's been keeping him calm and the closest he has to a protector is the sheriff who found him out in the woods. 

This is going to be bad. Derek can feel the thrum of the Alpha energy coursing under his skin, in his blood, in his muscles and bones. He can practically taste the need to shift, to go feral and run through the night. When the full moon comes, if Derek still doesn't have an anchor, someone is going to die. He knows better than to count on it being someone who deserves it. The people who deserve to die never get what's coming to them and it's the innocent people, the families, that get caught in the crossfire.

Derek doesn't sleep and when the psychologist comes to talk to him in the morning, he's still sitting in his hospital bed, meditating on the fact that he was supposed to die but didn't. The doctor asks a lot of questions and Derek contemplates not answering any of them, but eventually he just tells the woman he was confused and he understands now what's going on and no sorry, he still doesn't remember his name.

A few hours later, Derek's first nurse from the night before comes back, only this time she's wearing normal clothes instead of scrubs. The doctor with her takes Derek's clipboard and says, "Well, aside from the lingering confusion, you're perfectly healthy." Derek snorts. Of course he is. He's so healthy, he can't even die while trying. "We need this bed, so we're going to have to remand you to the foster system until CPS can figure out where you belong. They've placed you with Mrs. McCall for now." 

The nurse, Melissa, raises her hand and gives Derek a smile. He wants to resent how welcoming her smile is, or jump on that little bit of hesitance he can hear in her heartbeat, but he can't. Mostly he's just grateful they're letting him out of here. Maybe if he's somewhere quieter, somewhere that doesn't smell like blood and death, Derek will be able to sleep. 

Though he is concerned with the nurse's safety. What if someone comes looking for him now that he's back? When they're alone, he asks Melissa, "People won't be able to find out I'm staying with you, will they?"

Melissa looks at him, her jaw tipped open with surprise. Then she closes it and gets that fierce look that reminds Derek of his mother. "Of course not. You're a minor, Derek. All your information is protected. Now, come on. We'll get you settled in. You know, I have a son your age. I'm sure Scott won't mind lending you some clothes until we can buy you some new ones."

Derek nods at her kindness and doesn't say how difficult it will be for him to wear clothes impregnated with a stranger's scent. The scrubs they gave him to go home in are bad enough.

"We'll even get you enrolled at school," she goes on to say, steering Derek through the halls and out to her car. "You're a sophomore, right? So is Scott. I'll introduce you two and he can show you around!"

Derek thinks that sounds like the worst idea ever and if Melissa is planning to foist him off on her son, maybe he will just run away and save everyone the trouble. But something about the way Melissa puts a hand on his shoulder like everything's going to be okay makes Derek decide to stay. At least for now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this very short chapter while half asleep. All apologies.

Derek realizes what Scott is as soon as Melissa introduces them in the Administrative office at school. Everything in school looks the same, it even smells the same, and it makes it difficult for Derek to believe that six years have passed without him. The only indication is that he recognizes the teachers, but none of the students.

Scott walks in, looking exasperated and confused, and Derek feels his presence as if Scott is glowing brightly. A deep inhale through his nose tells Derek that Scott isn't just a werewolf. He's _Derek's_ werewolf. Derek only just got here! How can he have given the Bite to someone already? Why would he pick someone with such stupid hair?

Scott's jaw drops and his heart beats in overtime. He must feel it, too. Scott looks like he's on the verge of freaking out in front of his mother and the principal, so Derek projects as much calm energy as he can muster. He tries to make his voice sound friendly, but as soon as he opens his mouth Derek knows that his wolf is too close to the surface, making his voice sound rough and even threatening. He clears his throat, but doesn't say anything for fear of giving himself away. Instead he nods.

Scott looks like he'd rather be eating glass than be in this room, but he manages to say, "Hey."

Melissa looks back and forth between them and says under her breath, "Yeah, this is going to end well." Derek notes the sarcasm in her voice and the way Scott gives his mother a side-eyed look. Over the years, Derek has had lots of practice not reacting to things he shouldn't be able to hear, but does. He keeps a straight face, though he does send Scott a look while the adults work on Derek' enrollment papers.

"Well," Scott says after a moment. "I have to go to practice. See you at home, I guess."

"Bye, sweetheart," Melissa says, and the look she gives her son makes Derek's eyes tear up. The loss of his family makes Derek feel raw, like every inch of his skin is gone and the rest of him is open to the stinging air of grief and regret. The pain makes it hard to breathe and hard to think. Derek clenches his teeth and his fists and closes his eyes. He needs to find an anchor, and soon. 

Derek can still feel Scott as he walks away, burning bright in Derek's mind's eye with feelings of "pack" and "mine." Derek doesn't know him yet, but maybe Scott can be the person that brings Derek back from the edge. A rapid heartbeat gets close to Scott's and Derek starts when he realizes he recognizes that beat. It's Stiles, from the night before. Derek shouldn't be able to distinguish Stiles from all the other heartbeats in the school, much less the world as a whole, but Derek can't shake the feeling that he's right. He chalks it down to an Alpha thing his parents never told him (or that Derek hadn't been listening to when they did).

"Okay!" Melissa says, putting a careful hand on Derek's shoulder again, like she's afraid he's going to spook. "You're all set to start on Monday."

"Great," Derek says gruffly. It's not that he hates school or anything. Most of the time he finds it alright. The thing is Derek wishes he could spend that time on something more important – namely, figuring out how he got here and how to get justice for his family.


	8. Chapter 8

Melissa shows Derek into a house that seems too big for just her and her one son, though maybe Derek is used to living in cramped quarters. He's always had to share a room, first with his older brother and then with his cousin, so being shown into the guest room with its solitary bed makes Derek feel more than a little lonely. Melissa must notice, because she asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

Derek nods, but Melissa just intensifies her look of concern. "I've never slept over anywhere before," he admits. 

"Not even at a friend's house?" she asks, looking mystified and like she's pitying him.

"No." Derek had never had fantastic control and he tended to shift in his sleep until he grew out of it around thirteen. His parents hadn't wanted him accidentally scaring his friends, so they always came and got him before bedtime. Laura got to sleep over at her friends' houses any night but the full moon. He'd been so jealous. Now he just wants her back.

"Well, try to think of it as home," Melissa insists with a plastered-on grin, "not just staying over. This is your room as long as you're with us and you'll have the same rules as Scott – no illegal activities, no staying up late on weeknights, and if you have a girl over, I want to know about it _before_ anything happens. Sound good?"

"Sure," Derek says, knowing full well how low the chances are that he'll be ready to bring a girl home anytime soon. Not after what happened with Kate Argent. 

Melissa nods and leaves Derek to get settled, which is strange because he doesn't have any possessions. Everything that survived the fire wasn't with him when the Sheriff found him in the woods the previous morning.

Derek paces around the room for a few minutes, exhaustion making his bones ache. He hasn't slept well in days – or years depending on how one counts the time. The bed in this room is bigger than his old one at home, which he'd had to curl himself into since his last growth spurt. This one was big enough that Derek could lay diagonally and fit easily. It wasn't as big as his parents' bed, where Derek had slept whenever he had been feeling vulnerable as a child. Here he had no one to protect him while he slept, just the extra strength and responsibility of being Alpha.

Derek startles awake when the front door bangs shut, signaling Scott's return home. He and his mother talk at length about how long Derek is going to stay with them and then if Scott can borrow the car to take a girl named Allison to the dance on Saturday night.

Derek can feel that the full moon is coming and that it'll be at its peak two nights from now – on Saturday. He can't let Scott go to that dance. The first full moon is always the most difficult as far as controlling not only the shift, but the temptation to give in and lose one's humanity. Unleashing that among a gymnasium full of high schoolers would just be idiotic. As soon as Scott leaves his mom downstairs and enters his room, Derek goes to him. He doesn't bother knocking, just lets himself in and says, "We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The consequence of one chapter per day is that on busy days, you guys get very short chapters. I'll try to pick up the pace over the weekend here.


	9. Chapter 9

Scott looks up, his mouth open in surprise and after a moment says, "Did you forget how to knock, too?"

Brushing past the question, Derek makes sure he can hear Melissa's heartbeat downstairs and then tells Scott, "You've been bitten. You're a werewolf."

"What?" Scott splutters, fists clenching at his sides. "No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are," Derek insists, letting his power flare through his eyes. Scott takes a surprised step backward. "Since I bit you, you've been able to see better, hear better, move–"

" _You_ bit me?" Derek sees that the growl in Scott's voice is accompanied by a lengthening of his claws and teeth. It hits him suddenly how bad this full moon is going to be. If Derek can't find some way to control himself, there's no way he's going to be able to stop Scott from shifting and probably killing someone. "Wha- _why_?"

"I don't remember," Derek replies, putting a growl into his own voice. 

Scott continues shifting, his eyes flashing yellow. "How can you not remember! I don't believe you! I'm not-"

Derek grabs Scott's wrists and shows him the claws on his hands. "Believe me now?" Scott growls and shoves Derek away, scrambling into his bathroom and practically punching the wall when he turns on the light. Scott stares at his shifted face in the mirror for a moment before Derek gets impatient and says, "Get used to it because the full moon is on Saturday. And I have a feeling it's gonna be a rough one."

"But..." Scott protests, his wolf face slipping away, "I asked Allison to Homecoming! It's this Saturday."

Derek frowns, first at Scott changing back without taking some serious time to cool down and second at his lack of priorities. "Would you rather not go to Homecoming, or would you rather accidentally kill your girlfriend? Because those are your choices, Scott."

"No!" Scott brushes past Derek and back into his room, pacing around like he's trying to find something. "I'm going to that dance."

Derek knows the sound of someone making up their minds. His older brother Elliot had a stubborn streak a mile wide and no one could ever change his mind once it was made up. Frustrated, Derek said, "I can't let you go until you learn some control! We're pack now, Scott. We help each other. Let me teach you how to control this."

"I'm not your pack," he insists and Derek feels the bond between them shiver like it might break if Scott repeats the statement a few more times. "You ruined my life!"

Derek doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to apologize for something he didn't knowingly do. He knows he's a shitty alpha and that he has no clue what he's doing and there's no one left to tell him how to make things better. He wants to react with anger, to yell at Scott and tell him off for being so blind to what's happening or even for being in the wrong place at the wrong time to begin with. But Derek doesn't have enough energy to be angry. 

Instead, he does exactly what an Alpha shouldn't do. He falls apart.

Derek's sobs are silent except when he gasps for air. Scott's eyes widen and he whines in his throat, obviously unsure what to do. Fuck if Derek knows either. After a moment, Scott calls out, "Mom!"

"What?!" Melissa cries from downstairs and Derek doesn't want her to see him like this, so he tries to dry his eyes and stumble back to his room. He only makes it as far as the hallway before Melissa appears. Derek feels Scott hovering behind them as Melissa murmurs, "Oh, sweetie," and pulls Derek into her arms. She smells nothing like Derek's mother, but her arms are warm and tight around him, making Derek fall apart anew.

When Derek pulls himself together a few minutes later, he doesn't let Melissa ask him any questions. He mumbles a quick word of thanks and then shuts himself in the room she gave him. 

Everything is wrong and fucked up and Derek can't quite make himself give up caring whether or not Scott does something stupid. If he goes to that dance and shifts in the middle of a crowd of people, someone will probably get killed. Hunters will hear about it and track Scott down and it'll be Derek's fault that Melissa loses her son. Just like it's Derek's fault that his whole family is dead. 

Exhaustion catches up with Derek before he can come up with a way of keeping Scott from that dance. 

~~**~~

When Derek wakes up in the morning, it's to Scott having a phone conversation with someone. It's still fairly early, but Derek doesn't have anywhere to be until Monday, so he burrows back into the covers and tries to fall back asleep. It ultimately proves impossible to ignore the conversation happening on the other side of the wall. 

"…just lost it, Stiles. I don't know if I can trust him around my mom."

" _If he's an honest-to-God werewolf_ ," Stiles says on the other end of the phone. Derek wonders how Scott knows the kid who'd visited him in the hospital. They're probably close if Scott is talking with him about Derek being a werewolf. Unless Derek is giving Scott too much credit. But no, he seems like the kind of guy who would want to keep this secret under wraps. " _Maybe you shouldn't_."

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' opinion. Like werewolves are any less trustworthy than humans. He's met plenty of humans who aren't even half as good as most of the wolves Derek knows. Knew. Shit. Losing one's entire life, minus the still-breathing part, takes major getting used-to.

"But you didn't see him. He looked so _wrecked_. And I– I mean I'm a–" Huh. Derek would have thought Scott would lead with the revelation that he's a werewolf now, not leave it until this far into the conversation.

" _Dude, seriously?_ " Stiles cries. " _I was right? Of course I was right. And everyone should always listen to–_ "

"Stiles."

" _All I'm saying is– wait! Isn't the full moon tomorrow?_ " Derek is surprised that a human like Stiles would be paying attention to the phases of the moon. Most humans Derek knows – _knew_ – couldn't care less.

Scott sounds apprehensive and maybe a little ashamed as he answers, "Yes?"

" _We can't go to the dance, then,_ " Stiles insists. Finally someone who gets it. 

"Stiles."

" _Scott_."

"Stiles!"

" _No, Scott! We're chaining you up or something. Haven't you ever seen_ The Wolfman?" Derek snorts to himself. He and Laura watched the movie once when they were bored on a Saturday night. The inaccuracies were fun to laugh at. What kind of werewolf grows hair all over unless he's an Alpha in full-wolf shift? Laura had snorted and practically fallen off the couch. 

Scott replies indignantly, "No." Then he says, "Derek mentioned something about learning control. If I can learn how to control this by tonight, I can play in the game tonight and go to the dance tomorrow!"

Derek groans to himself. He didn't even know there was a game to be worried about. Lacrosse, if Beacon Hills is still the same school six years later.

" _So go ask Derek to help you_ ," Stiles suggests and Derek huffs a sigh, pulling the covers away from his head. He's Alpha now, no matter how he got to be this way, and he has responsibilities. First and foremost, he's responsible for what he did to Scott. 

"I don't think so," Scott replies and Derek feels himself pouting before he catches himself and schools the expression away. Alphas don't pout because Betas hurt their feelings.

" _Why not_?" Derek hears Scott's heart beat a few extra times as he admits, "Because he already offered and I yelled at him. Practically ripped his head off. That's what made him– you know."

Break down like the worst Alpha on the planet?

" _Can you actually do that now?_ " Stiles sounds intrigued. 

Scott huffs and asks, "Do what?"

" _Rip someone's head off? This is important to know, Scott. Oh, I bet if you rip Jackson's head off, you'd get to be captain of the team._ "

Taking on an admonishing tone, Scott says, "Sti _les_."

" _What? I'm kidding!_ "

Derek thinks Stiles isn't kidding as much as he'd like Scott to believe. The ruthlessness calls to Derek and makes him decide that if he's going to teach Scott how to control his wolf, he's going to need Stiles' help. A good Alpha knows how to use all his people effectively. Even if some of them aren't technically his people.

Derek's brain whispers, _yet_ , and he frowns. The Bite is a major gift. One Derek wouldn't have given to a stranger if he'd been in his right mind. He thinks traveling six years into the future must have been so jarring and he was such a new Alpha, that instinct took over. It gave him something to deal with in Scott, something to protect. Something to live for. Derek hated it. He wanted to go back to before he met Kate and just warn himself away, warn his family away, kill the hunter before she could kill his pack. He'd traveled six years into the future. What was saying he couldn't travel back? 

First he would have to find that knife.


	10. Chapter 10

Fresh off his phone call with Scott, Stiles does some last-minute research into werewolves before getting in his jeep to drive to school. On the way there, he decides that keeping Scott from doing something he can never, ever take back during the game that night is going to take an expert in the matter. And who better to ask than the weepy creature of the night that bit Scott? Stiles knows that Derek isn't starting classes until Monday and he's probably going to be alone in the house all day while Mrs. McCall is working, so Stiles decides to skip first period and go by Scott's place instead.

The front door is locked, so Stiles climbs the tree up to Scott's window and hops inside like he's done at least a few times a month since he and Scott became best friends in seventh grade. Scott's long gone, his laptop missing from its place on his desk and his bathroom no longer steamy. Now to find Derek.

When someone slams Stiles against the wall of the hallway and growls, "What are you doing here?" Stiles realizes that maybe sneaking up on a werewolf wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. The funny thing is that Derek slamming Stiles into the wall doesn't hurt as much as Stiles thinks it should. It's almost like, even though he looks furious and his eyes are glowing red (glowing red, holy shit!), Derek's being careful with Stiles. Huh.

"English class sucks?" Stiles responds with a shrug, sighing in relief when Derek lets him go and takes a step back. His very dark and expressive eyebrows give Stiles the impression that Derek wants more of an answer, so Stiles explains, "I know Scott, dude, and I figure it's going to take both of us to get him game-ready by this afternoon."

Frowning so deeply that Stiles' brow aches in sympathy, Derek says, "It's impossible. Not this close to the full moon. It takes _weeks_ for someone to find their anchor and control the shift."

"Anchor?" Stiles asks, relaxing away from the wall now that it's apparent Derek won't kill him. He readjusts his jacket and continues. "Like, something to keep from going all growly and trying to kill everyone? 'Cause I gotta tell you, man, I'm usually the one who's right there next to Scott and this whole werewolf thing puts me directly in the line of fire. You can probably see how that might concern me. _Little_ bit."

"Your anchor keeps you human," Derek says with a nod, wrapping his arms around himself. For a badass werewolf, Derek doesn't look like more than a scared kid.

Pressing his lips together for a moment, Stiles thinks about how to help Scott find his anchor. Maybe the important part to begin with his what sets off the shift. Besides the full moon, of course. Stiles puts this question out loud.

"Strong emotions," Derek says grudgingly, like he's revealing a secret he shouldn't but can't see any other choice. "Usually anger or fear, though other things can set it off."

"What other things?" Stiles asks with an indignant cry. "My best friend is a werewolf. This is life-or-death information for me, dude."

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles so hard it looks like he's going to break something. But then he admits, "Anything that gets your heartbeat up. Anger. Fear. Other..." Derek trails off and looks away, like he can't bring himself to say the other thing. Like he's too embarrassed. Oh.

"Arousal?" Stiles asks, smirking a little to himself at the horrified look on Derek's face as he nods. Jesus, you'd think he wasn't a teenage boy. The thought makes Stiles narrow his eyes at Derek. "You're the same Derek Hale who disappeared six years ago, aren't you? Like, the _exact_ same, down to the minute. Right?"

Derek scoffs, but his eyes slide to the side like he's lying. "That's impossible."

"So are werewolves," Stiles counters. He sticks his hands in his pockets and takes a step toward Derek, watching as Derek clenches his fists and stands his ground stubbornly. "How did you do it? _Why_ did you do it?"

"It's not important," Derek says, turning around and disappearing into the guest room behind him. Stiles dithers for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to follow. He makes the decision to move just before Derek comes back out, wearing a leather jacket over his t-shirt and boots on his feet. Stiles thinks it looks like he's trying way too hard to look badass and it's not working. Not with those ears.

Derek brushes past Stiles again toward the stairs. He looks back once in an obvious invitation for Stile to follow, so he does, asking, "Where are we going?" Maybe he shouldn't be trusting strange werewolves, but Stiles can't let go of the question – how did Derek get here? Plus, the number of people with the expertise to help Scott is slim to none if Stiles discounts Derek, so he's really going with the best of the bad options here.

"To school," Derek replies, practically shoving Stiles out the front door when they get there. He pulls a key from his jeans pocket and locks the door behind them. "You think you can convince Scott to miss a few classes?"

Stiles laughs and leads the way to his Jeep. "It's like you don't know me at all!"

Derek doesn't respond, but as he gets into the passenger side and buckles himself in, Stiles could swear his frown softens a little.

A few blocks down the road, a thought occurs to him and Stiles asks, "Why do you do that?"

"What?" Derek asks, looking away from where he'd been staring out the windshield. 

Stiles points at him and clarifies. "Wear a seatbelt? I mean, you guys are really good at healing, right?"

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," Derek says in this way that makes Stiles want to cry in empathy, his voice all small and broken. Derek sniffs and wraps one hand around the opposite bicep. "Besides, it's against the law not to wear one. We don't exactly go looking for trouble from the cops."

"And who's we?" Stiles asks, getting at another question that's been bugging him. "I mean, there have to be more of you around, right? Werewolves? Arooo?"

With a withering look, Derek blinks at Stiles for a second before saying, "Scott is my pack now. Everyone else died in the fire."

"Oh." That's right. Stiles knew about that. The whole family, like ten people, got trapped in the house fire and Derek was the only one left. Stiles had felt so bad for Derek when he found out by overhearing his dad talk to one of his coworkers on the phone. And then Derek had disappeared. "I helped look for you, you know. After that."

Derek makes a noncommittal grunt, but doesn't thank Stiles or anything. Rude.

~~**~~

Derek waits in the empty locker room, assured by Stiles that there aren't any P.E. classes until third period, so they've got some time. He gets so caught up in thinking about how his mother taught him to control his wolf and what might make a good anchor for himself, much less for Scott, that he doesn't hear someone coming until it's almost too late. Derek hides at the end of a row of lockers and scents the air. It's not Scott or Stiles it's ... It's Coach Finstock.

The schedule Derek was given the day before looks exactly like his old schedule, right down to P.E. directly after lunch with Coach Finstock. Derek never really understood why the Econ teacher was also the P.E. teacher and head coach of the lacrosse team, but he figured Beacon Hills didn't have a lot of money and Finstock had no life. He certainly never smelled like he shared his life with someone. 

Curious about how Finstock will react to him, Derek steps out from his hiding place and lets himself be seen. The gasp and the way the Coach's heartbeat skitters into a thundering rhythm makes Derek smirk before he remembers himself. "Jesus!" Coach cries. "What are you doing there? Who are – wait. I know you! You're that missing kid! But-"

Coach goes as white as a sheet and his heart stops for a second before kicking in again. The stench of fear rolling off him makes Derek breathe deeply to catch all of it. Except that is a predator's instinct and one that civilized werewolves don't show in public. Pulling himself together, Derek says, "No, I'm not him. I..." Derek thinks about the name they'd released him from the hospital under, the name on all his foster care paperwork, and says, "John. I start on Monday."

"Really?" Coach says, obviously not believing him. "Because you look exactly like that Derek Hale kid."

"That's what they tell me," Derek shrugs. 

After a moment, Coach takes a quick breath and says, "You here for a gym locker? I think we got a few empty ones. Keep all your stuff. We're doing badminton next week. Or maybe soccer. I can't remember."

Derek hears footsteps hurrying toward the locker room so he brushes Coach off with a, "I'll get one on Monday when I bring my stuff," and heads Stiles and Scott off just outside the door."

"Dude?" Stiles asks, focused on the locker room over Derek's shoulder.

"Finstock," Derek says in explanation. "Somewhere else?"

"How do you know the coach?" Scott asks, a question that's so low on Derek's priority list that he doesn't bother to answer.

"Um," Stiles says, patting Scott's shoulder but ignoring the question as well. "There's that stage next to the gym. It's usually closed off and empty. I don't know where to get the keys, though."

"Not a problem," Derek says, knowing he can just pull the door open if he needs to. 

"Guys?" Scott's voice sounds apprehensive and regretful, like he's wishing he was actually in class right now. Derek smirks to himself and leads the way to what he now thinks of as their "practice room."

~~**~~

While Stiles can't say he's not appreciating the show, watching Derek and Scott beat each other half to death, he can see that they're getting no closer to solving Scott's wolfy problem. He's also starting to suspect that Derek isn't as in control as he'd let Stiles believe either. So he's got two werewolves beating the shit out of each other and no way to get Scott to pick an anchor. He starts brainstorming places around town that might be capable of holding the two of them securely on Saturday night. He really doubts the deputies will look the other way if he tries to use the holding cell down at the station.

More than once, Derek has made Scott so mad that Scott has tried to come after Stiles, to hurt and possibly kill him, which Stiles thinks is so not cool. If anyone is Scott's anchor it should be him, right? He's Scott's best friend and probably the only reason Scott is still alive (and also the only reason Scott was out in the woods to be bitten in the first place, but Stiles isn't going to point that out, ever). Shouldn't Stiles be a good enough anchor for Scott? Thank god Derek is still well enough in control to scare Scott away each time he comes to Stiles looking for blood.

But then, as Scott snarls and rounds on Derek for the umpteenth time, his gaze suddenly goes long. He zones out and his human features fade back in (a sight that makes Stiles queasy, to be quite honest, but he can't admit that out loud because it's also so freaking cool Stiles thinks he might explode with excitement). Rushing over to his friend, Stiles asks, "What was that? What were you thinking about that brought you back?"

Scott gets a soft smile on his face and he says, "I heard Allison. She's talking in class."

Knowing for a fact that Allison's class is halfway across the building, Stiles asks Derek, "Should he be able to do that? Pick out one voice out of all of the voices in the building?"

Derek cracks his neck and his face shifts back to normal, his mutton chops fading and his thick eyebrows growing back, his teeth blunting back into almost-human shape. "It's possible," Derek says with a shrug. Meeting Scott's eyes, Derek says, "I think you found your anchor."

"What?" Scott asks, standing up straighter. "Allison? She's my anchor?"

"The power of love," Stiles crows, slapping Scott on the back and feeling not at all (insanely) jealous. "We just gotta make sure Allison comes to the game tonight."

"Hey!" Scott says, like he's just had an idea. Oh, here it goes. Scott's ideas are only ever awful. "You should invite your girlfriend to come to the game, too! That way Allison will have someone to sit with!"

Stiles literally feels the blood draining out of his face. Quickly he assures Scott (and Derek), "Jaime's not my girlfriend. She just wanted to go to the dance and I needed a date to show Lydia that I'm totally datable and she may in fact be a guy, so..."

"I'm pretty sure Lydia's a girl," Scott says with a confused laugh. Derek looks like he wishes he didn't know either of them. 

"No, _Jaime_." Stiles huffs. "This is what I was trying to talk to you about earlier, when you weren't listening. Jackson told me Jaime's actually a guy. Not that there's anything wrong with that," Stiles adds quickly. "But I’m really confused. Can't you use your wolfy powers to figure it out and report back to me so I know how to mentally prepare myself for tomorrow night?"

Scott's smile widens into a grin until he's laughing so loudly, Stiles is afraid someone might find them here where they're not supposed to be. Derek looks concerned too and has that nauseated, uncomfortable look on his face that Stiles is sure says more about Derek's inability to process feelings like a human being and less to do with the ambiguous question of Jaime's gender. 

Turning to Derek, Stiles asks, "Hey, how about you? Would you sniff someone for me? C'mon, you can have lunch with us and I'll point her out."

"No," Derek says, turning on his heel and stalking away. 

As he goes, Stiles punches Scott in the arm and calls after Derek, "So we'll see you at the game tonight, won't we? You can supervise!"

Derek waves flippantly over his shoulder without turning around and Stiles takes that as a yes. Then he pulls Scott into a headlock and says, "C'mon, wolf-boy. Time for lunch."

Letting Stiles pull him along, Scott asks, "Do you think Allison will sit with us if I ask her to?"

Stiles groans. This 24/7 Allison shtick is getting really old and if Stiles knows Scott, which he does, he knows that this is only the beginning.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles has dinner with his dad at a fast food restaurant before the game. Frowning at his dad's tray, Stiles asks, "Did you have to get the beef party? Veggie is so much healthier."

The sheriff rolls his eyes and changes the subject. "So, do you think you'll get to play tonight?"

"Not likely," Stiles says truthfully, shoving a curly fry into his mouth. "I'm like, third line. If everyone else dies or something, I get to play."

"Uh-huh." The sheriff takes a bite of his sandwich and says, "You're looking pretty nervous for a kid who's not going to play today."

Damn Stiles' dad and damn his dad's top notch investigative skills. Thinking on the fly, Stiles says, "Scott's first line. I'm nervous on his behalf. I mean he _is_ my best friend. If he goes out there and totally fucks up, what does that say about me and my life choices?"

"Language," the Sheriff says, more as a reminder than a chastisement. "And I'm sure no one will judge you for being Scott's friend."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles asks, "And just how long ago did you graduate from high school? A million years? Yeah, that's what I thought."

The sheriff laughs and shakes his head. After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence, the sheriff asks, "So this is the Homecoming game, isn't it? Does that mean there will be a dance?"

"Yes," Stiles admits, knowing the real question is whether or not Stiles is going to said dance. "I'm going with Jaime."

"Should I know who this Jaime is or should I start guessing?"

Stiles smirks at his dad's attitude and shrugs. "She's new. Or he. I haven't quite figured that part out and it seemed rude to ask."

"You can't tell?" the sheriff asks, mouth open in befuddlement. Stiles shakes his head. "Won't that get awkward if it turns out Jaime _is_ a boy?"

Stiles may be a compulsive liar sometimes, but this seems far too important to brush past. It's just Stiles and his dad now and werewolves notwithstanding, they tell each other the important stuff. "Not ... really?" Stiles manages to say. "I mean, I'd be okay with it."

"Oh," Stiles' dad replies, and to his credit he doesn't look disgusted or anything, just a little surprised. "But you still..."

"Have a healthy appreciation for the female of the species?" Stiles asks, chuckling awkwardly. "Yeah, Dad."

The sheriff sighs in what looks like relief, and Stiles hopes it's because he's relieved he knows his son as well as he thought he did, not that he's relieved Stiles isn't gay. They turn back to their food and Stiles tries not to psych himself out of the only date he's ever had.

When as they're leaving the restaurant, Stiles' dad claps him on the back a few times and says, "You're a good kid," Stiles lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Like, Stiles expected as much, but it's nice to have the confirmation that if Stiles wants to start dating a guy (accidentally or on purpose), he won't be disowned or anything. People at school probably won't care forthe most part either. Stiles only has to look at Danny for an example. Everyone loves Danny!

With all this talk and stress, though, Stiles has forgotten the most important part – he still has his ten year plan to win Lydia over. If he has to go into the relationship a little more seasoned, a little more experienced, that'll only help, right? It's not like he's doing something stupid like saving himself for Lydia or anything like that (except he totally is).


	12. Chapter 12

About a third of the way into the game, Stiles groans to himself, rubbing his face in frustration they're three points down, Jackson keeps getting sent to the penalty box, Danny's playing with a broken finger, and Scott's doing awfully. Stiles knows Scott is trying to avoid getting angry and shifting on the field, but Coach looks like he's about to have an apoplectic fit at the fact that Scott isn't playing his best.

Lydia, Allison, and Jaime are sitting in the stands together, not far from where Stiles' dad and Scott's mom sit a little too close for Stiles' liking. Jaime holds up a sign that says, "Go #24!" It's sweet, right? Stiles has never had signs made just for him before. He still can't tell if Jaime's a girl or a boy, because the cut of her jeans is too baggy, but she's wearing a maroon scarf with frills on the end and Stiles thinks he's about to go nuts worrying about that on top of worrying about Scott going psycho and killing someone and worrying about just how the hell Derek got here.

Stiles shrieks a little when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, but let's out a sigh of relief when he sees it's just Coach. He turns wild eyes on Stiles and says, "Bilinski! Get out there! Take Jackson's place until he's back in."

"Really?" Stiles asks, feeling like his chest is about explode from excitement. This is the first time he's been allowed to play in an actual game! 

"Yes, really! Get your ass on the field!"

Stiles isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth again, so he gets his ass out on the field. The other team is brutal and Stiles goes down hard more than once. He manages to complete a pass to Greenberg once and makes a few shots at the goal which don't go in. And then the big guy, this mean bruiser whose jersey says, "Dillahunt," comes after Stiles and plows him into the ground. Stiles lands in his shoulder and hears something crunch right as a bloom of pain takes his breath away. Fantastic. His lacrosse career is finished before it even began.

"Fuck," he groans, struggling to get up and hissing when he twists to put weight on his good arm. The pain doesn't quite take his breath away, like when he broke his leg in fifth grade, but it's not a bucket of kittens, either.

"Oh, my gosh! Are you okay?" Stiles unclenches his eyes and sees Jaime hovering right over him, her brows tilted up in concern. Coach is behind her, trying to edge Jaime away and looking frustrated that he can't seem to do it. The rest of the team and the ref are hovering nearby and Stiles wishes he could just crawl into a hole for the next few days.

Still, it's nice to have someone other than Scott concerned about him, so Stiles smiles at Jaime and says, "Sort of."

"That _animal_ had no reason to hit you," Jaime insists, the vehemence in her voice surprising. She offers him a hand up. Stiles takes it with his good arm and is surprised by Jaime's strength as he pops up onto his feet. "You didn't even have the ball anymore!"

Stiles shrugs, because lacrosse is a violent game, and hisses as the gesture pulls his bad shoulder. Jaime pouts at him and draws Stiles' good arm into hers. "We need to get some ice on that shoulder!"

"Uh," Stiles says, not sure he and Jaime are close enough for her to start playing nurse for him. Not that he doesn't appreciate the gesture, because he does, but it also makes him a little uneasy, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Thanks, but there's a medic," he says, pointing to the guy with the first aid kit who's headed his way. "I'm sure he's got this. Thanks, though."

"Oh," Jaime nods, looking a little crestfallen before she gives him a smile and nods. "Okay. Text me so I know you're alright."

Thinking of the number he'd just put into his phone that morning when he and Jaime finalized their Homecoming plans, Stiles lets the medic lead him toward the school and the locker room and calls back toward her, "Sure thing!"

~~**~~

Derek goes to the lacrosse game with Melissa, giving her the impression that he really does want to be part of her family and that this is how he'll show it. Derek might not have his family anymore, but that doesn't mean he wants a new one, especially this soon. His family never really believed in an afterlife, but Derek still feels like he's meant to join them. Being left alive and alone was just a mistake of circumstances. Once Scott is settled, at peace with his new life and maybe integrated into a pack at college somewhere, then Derek can join them. If it doesn't happen sooner, that is.

And if Derek manages to track down Kate Argent in the mean time, well that's all the better.

Watching the lacrosse game in person excites Derek more than he'll ever admit. The hearts around him race in time with the action on the field and the scent of excitement permeates everything. It makes Derek more than a little giddy with anticipation, a reaction which he pushes down.

"You know," Melissa says from her seat next to him, "you're allowed to have fun."

Derek gives her half a smile and nods. He doesn't want to have fun. He doesn't deserve it. Not after what he's done. If Melissa finds out that it was Derek's fault her son is no longer human, will she still insist he have a good time? Or will she try to kill him? Derek fervently believes the latter. He learns from his mistakes. He's not telling anyone who doesn't need to know that werewolves exist.

Derek can't help but stand up in concern when Stiles takes a bad fall. He looks like he's in pain, but otherwise fine, so Derek directs his attention elsewhere. Scott's eyes are glowing. Derek rushes down to the field, his heart in his throat; but instead of going toward Stiles like everyone else, Derek heads to Scott. The game is paused for a moment, allowing Derek to run out onto the field and grab Scott's helmet by the face mask so he'll look at Derek.

"Find your anchor," Derek growls.

Scott's voice is low and rough with anger. "Did you see what that jerk off did to Stiles? He's gonna pay for that!"

When Scott tries to move away, Derek growls a warning. "Stiles is fine. Don't even think about shifting in front of all these people. In front of your mom. And Allison."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, guys! Sorry I haven't had a chance to respond individually, but I do appreciate it so much! I'm about 5,000 words behind where I should be, but I still have high hopes that I'll be able to finish this year! Your support really helps my motivation and ultimately, the chances that I will complete this story. Thanks again.


	13. Chapter 13

Scott's eyes widen in fear and Derek can feel him pull back from the edge. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as he meets Derek's gaze. Scott's power flares yellow through his eyes and it's not fading, even though Scott appears to be more in control.

Derek hears most of the conversations going on around them, but he zeros in on one conversation when Scott turns his head that way, "... how easy he went down?"

"Yeah, dude! Like your mom when she runs out of coke!"

"Shut up, dude! _Your mom's the crack ho! And I don't even know why they had 24 playing! This whole team is a joke!"_

Scott growls, loud enough that one of the Beacon Hills players gives them an odd look. Frowning, Derek grabs Scott by the back of the neck and pulls him away from the field. He only hopes that there's so much going on no one notices them.

Scott fights him, clawing at Derek and breaking the skin easily. Derek hisses at the pain, but gets Scott away from the field and around one corner of the school. He pushes Scott against the brick wall of the school and growls with his fangs bared, hoping it sounds anything like the growl his mother always used to scare betas into submission.

It must be, because Scott presses himself back against the wall, eyes wide, and Derek can feel Scott's rage subside. It worked? It worked!

After a moment, Scott pushes at Derek and cries, "Okay! Okay, I'm good! Let go!"

Derek lets go, but he keeps a close eye on Scott, just in case he managed to trick Derek. It had happened before with Derek's mom and Elliot. Plus, Derek wasn't in the mood to trust anyone these days. Melissa McCall not withstanding.

Derek and Scott stare at each other for a moment and then someone in the direction of the field screams. Derek meets Scott's eye again for half a second to confirm the sound isn't in his head and then takes off running toward the sound, Scott half a step behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

When they get back to the field, everyone is crowded around an area behind the equipment shed. Derek smells blood and the sharp intake of breath and the stutter of Scott's heart tells Derek that he smells it too. Scott grabs one of his teammate's shoulders and asks, "What happened?"

"Someone's hurt. A guy from the other team," he says, giving Derek a curious look.

"It has to be pretty bad, for there to be all these people around, right?"

"Yeah, dude," someone else says. "I think he's dead. Your mom's up there."

Derek fights the urge to turn and run away. It was one of his family's rules – if there's trouble, make sure you're far, far away from it. One wrong move could end with a spotlight shining on the family. Of course, they also told him not to trust anyone outside the pack, and look where ignoring that rule had gotten him. Derek fought the urge to run away, though, because he'd come here with Melissa and he knew that as soon as she noticed him missing, the suspicion would be far worse than if he stuck with the crowd, gawking at the dead body.

Conjecture and half-truths filter through the crowd, but Derek focuses on Melissa's voice as she asks someone, "Do they say how far out the ambulance is? I can barely feel a pulse. With this much blood loss, if they don't get here in the next few minutes..."

Derek can't hear the ambulance. A boy is going to die.

Scott asks around, "Who is it? What hurt him?"

"That big guy, Dillahunt," one of the players – Whittemore – says. "He's been stabbed or something."

Derek recognizes the name and hisses in Scott's ear, "That's the guy who creamed Stiles, isn't it?" The coincidence of the situation makes him uneasy.

Scott nods, but his attention is elsewhere, probably on his mother's voice, just like Derek's. "Shit," she hisses. In a louder voice she tells someone, "Hold pressure on the wound. I have to start compressions."

Derek knows it's no use. The boy is gone. 

He wonders if it's somehow his fault.

~~**~~

"Not quite dislocated," the medic tells Stiles as he moves Stiles' arm this way and that – which is really fucking painful, thanks so much, dude. "But it was a near thing. You've probably got some ligament damage that will have to heal. I'm going to put you in a sling and you should have your parents take you to urgent care to get this looked at. Would you-"

"Stiles?" his dad's voice interrupts, bursting into the locker room. 

"Dad," Stiles calls, waving his good arm when his dad comes around the corner. The medic gathers up his things and leaves with a smile and a nod for both Stiles and his dad. Stiles readjusts his sling to try to make it a little more comfortable (he fails) and asks, "Hey, are we still losing?"

The sheriff shakes his head, but he looks disturbed or concerned or something, so they must not be winning either. "What happened?"

"A boy's been gravely injured. He might not make it to the hospital," Dad says, using his grim cop-voice. Stiles takes a sharp breath of surprise and hopes it's not someone he cares about. "One of the other team members."

Stiles just barely stops himself from sighing in relief. He's relieved alright, but he doesn't want to give his dad any more reason to question his sanity than the man already does. He thinks about what would be normal to ask and lands on, "What happened?"

"I won't know for sure until I get more information, but it looks like he's been stabbed. You didn't hear anything, you know, around the locker room, did you? Before the game?"

"Not about _stabbing_ anyone!" Stiles cries. _Jesus Christ_! "Why would you think it's one of us?"

"It was their best player," the Sheriff explains, sitting down on the table next to Stiles with a tired sigh. "With another run at the championship on the line, there've been flimsier motives."

"The only people I know who care _that much_ about winning State are the Coach and Jackson Whittemore," Stiles says. "But I really doubt either of them would resort to stabbing a dude. That's like _way_ personal."

"Hmm," the Sheriff says with a nod, clapping Stiles on the back a few times. "You're probably right. I don't know how we're going to find out who did this, though. There's close to three hundred people out to see the game tonight. It could have been almost any one of them."

Stiles nods. He hopes it wasn't Scott or Derek, their bloodlust stoked up by the impending full moon. He's read way too much about werewolves in the past twenty-four hours and he can't help the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach, like something is about to happen. Something even worse than a guy he doesn't know getting stabbed. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"There weren't any, like, bite marks or anything, were there? Claw marks?"

Stiles' dad gives him a look like he's worried Stiles hit his head or something. " _No._ "

"Right," Stiles nods, standing up and wincing when the movement jostles his arm. "Just checking. Hey, could we go to the doctor's now? Get me some nice pain pills?"

His dad hesitates, which makes Stiles think he must be considering staying behind to oversee the crime scene, but ultimately he says, "Yeah. Yeah, let's go get you patched up. You played good out there."

Snorting, Stiles says, "No, I didn't. But thanks for saying so."

~~**~~

Scott spends the night in his room, not sleeping and listening to Derek's heartbeat from the next room. It doesn't sound like he's asleep either, since his heart keeps speeding up and slowing down and Scott can't imagine that happening to someone who is asleep. Scott wishes his mom hadn't decided to go in to her shift early, leaving Scott the car to drive him and Derek home, while she rode in the ambulance with the injured player.

Derek had said the boy was dead, but Scott knows that isn't true until the EMTs and nurses and doctors try their damnedest to bring him back. His mom talks sometimes about how they worked on someone for almost an hour before deciding that they weren't coming back to life. He always thinks it's good of them to try for that long, that he would appreciate it if it was someone he knew and loved. If it was his mom or Stiles, especially.

Scott wouldn't exactly mind if they only tried on Derek for fifteen minutes, but Scott recognizes the thought as unkind and tries not to think it too hard. Besides, Derek is a werewolf, which supposedly means it's really hard to kill him. Scott hasn't tested his healing abilities beyond poking his thumb with his pocket knife, sucking the blood away, and watching as the nick healed itself before his eyes.

So, it's sort of cool, but Scott doesn't want to be a werewolf. He'd only ever wanted to be normal and popular. Not an asthmatic freak who only Stiles likes. Now he's a different sort of freak and Scott's biggest fear is that Allison will find out and ultimately decide maybe he isn't worth hanging around with at all.

Man, how is he supposed to get through the dance tomorrow? Scott wishes he could cancel, but he knows how amazing Allison is, how beautiful and nice and funny, and he knows that if he backs out now, someone else is going to see how awesome she is and swoop in on her. 

So, Scott _has_ to go to the dance. 

The main problem is the full moon. Scott can feel it creeping up on him, making him feel anxious, like he's got too much energy under his skin. It makes him feel powerful and invincible, and very, very out of control. Even focusing on Allison at the game tonight didn't help Scott keep control and keep human. It took Derek's crazy Alpha power or whatever to bring Scott back.

Then it occurs to him, Scott has to make sure Derek is at the dance. If he's around, Scott can go to him if he starts losing control and get Derek to control the wolf for him. It's perfect!

~~**~~

Brilliant plan firmly in his head, Scott manages a decent night's sleep after all. When his alarm goes off in the morning, he actually wakes up without too much difficulty and walks, rather than stumbles, out to the car to go pick up his mom from work. When he gets there, she looks exhausted. And sad. Sometimes exhausted and sad look the same to Scott, but right now he thinks she's both. 

"Tough night?" he asks, pulling away from the hospital and out onto the road.

"Like you wouldn't believe," his mom sighs, rubbing her temples with both hands. "That boy was a difficult one. We lost him right after we got to the ER. He just bled out."

Scott actually likes it when his mom talks to him about medical stuff, even though she probably isn't supposed to, with patient confidentiality and stuff. He likes hearing stories about how people put other people back together, so he's careful not to repeat most of the stories she tells him. He knows if one of them gets out because Stiles thinks it's too cool not to post on the internet somewhere, his mom will stop talking to him about work. And then what will they talk about?

"That is sad," Scott agrees. He knows young people die all the time, but he feels like it shouldn't happen anyway. Curiosity gets the better of him, because Scott asks, "Was he really stabbed?"

Scott's mom shrugs. "More like run through, to be honest. The closest I've ever seen was when a construction worker fell on a piece of rebar. That guy was lucky, though, because it just went through his thigh. Well, not so lucky because he needs a cane now and can't work, but at least he's alive."

"Whoa." Scott doesn't know what to think about that. "Who could have run that guy through? And with _what_? A sword?"

"Not my job description," she says with a sigh. 

Scott decides that his mom probably needs quiet way more than she needs his silly questions about a gruesome death, so he keeps his mouth shut until they get home. Derek actually sounds like he's asleep, which is a miracle, because he's been awake whenever Scott has been awake since he came to stay with them two days ago. Maybe werewolves who have been werewolves for longer than a few days need less sleep?

"Alright, I'm gonna crash," Scott's mom says as soon as they walk through the door. She turns around and gives Scott a tight hug, her voice definitive in his ear. "Love ya, kid."

Scott can't help but smile and return the hug. "Love you too, Mom."

She grunts a little and pushes him back, but she's smiling. "Whoo! You're getting strong! All that working out must be paying off, huh?"

Scott smiles and watches his mom climb up the stairs toward her room. "Yeah. _Working out_!"

Now there's just two things Scott _has_ to do: Call Stiles and ask if his dad has any leads, and convince Derek to come to the Homecoming dance.

~~**~~

"That is the worst idea ever," Stiles insists, holding the phone to his bad shoulder while he roots around in his closet for a red tie to go with his dress shirt. He knows he has one in here somewhere. "You should just sit this one out, dude. Go hang out with Derek in the woods or something. Howl at the moon. I'll make sure no one lays any moves on Allison in the mean time."

"Thanks," Scott replies with a scoff that makes Stiles sure Scott is rolling his eyes, "but if I cancel on her now, Allison will hate me _forever_."

"She won't hate you if you say you've got norovirus or food poisoning or something," Stiles replies, adding a triumphant, "Ha ha!" when he finds his tie. 

"What if she finds out I lied?"

"What if she finds out you're a frickin' _werewolf_?"

Stiles really thinks he's got this argument won, despite what almost four years of best-friend-dom would predict. Then Scott hums and says, "Nope. I'm going. Are you going to help me convince Derek or not?"

Needing to point out the major, glaring, can-be-seen-from-space hole in Scott's plan, Stiles asks, "What happens if we can't convince him?"

"I'm still going to go," Scott says, making Stiles groan and fall back onto his bed (which makes him groan again, because his shoulder is still seriously fucked up). 

"You know your epic, storybook love for Allison is going to get someone killed, right?"

"Yep." Heaving the biggest sigh imaginable, Stiles says, "Alright. I'll be over in a few minutes to help convince him."

"Yes!" Scott cries. He hangs up the phone without so much as a goodbye, which is normal, but Stiles still stares at his phone with a pout. Would it be too much to ask for a little common courtesy now and then?

Yeah, it probably would.


	15. Chapter 15

"You might as well just cave, dude," Stiles says, on cheek resting in his hand, his face a little distorted with the pressure of holding his head up. Derek frowns.

"I'm in charge and I say no dance!" Derek insists with a growl, tossing Stiles' extra suit coat at his head, instead of trying it on. 

"Oh, _you're_ in charge?" Stiles shoots back, using his good arm to throw the coat onto Scott's bed beside him. There's a red imprint of his palm on Stiles' cheek and Derek can't help but watch how long it takes to fade away. "On what grounds? Sure, you've got wolfy powers, but no one elected you, did they?"

"And somehow I missed the vote where we elected _you_?" Derek scoffs and takes a step toward Stiles. 

Scott gets in between them and says, "Guys! My mom is sleeping right down the hall! Keep it down!"

"You need to be chained up, Scott," Derek insists, trying to lower his voice so they'll know he's serious. "Until you've been through a few full moons, you have no idea how to control the shift. It's not that easy!"

Scott rolls his eyes, but Stiles seems like he might take this seriously, but it's just his loyalty to Scott that's holding him back. Stiles opens his mouth then and says, "Maybe-" but he's cut off by his phone beeping. He takes it out of his pocket and looks at the screen, poking it a few times and shrugging.

"What?" Scott asks and Derek seriously feels like he needs to go kill something. He doesn't know how to win an argument with somebody so stubborn and he knows Scott is going to do something stupid if Derek _can't_ figure it out in time. They can't afford this distraction.

A slow smile spreads across Stiles' face and Derek snorts in annoyance. If he thought he could actually go through with it, Derek would consider holding Stiles hostage until Scott agreed to back off from this Homecoming issue. He can't do it, though. Derek doesn't know how to be that ruthless. Even to someone as annoying as Stiles. The boy holds up his phone and says, "Jaime texted me. She says she's, 'excited to see me tonight,' and has, 'been thinking about me all day.' How frickin' sweet is that?"

"It doesn't matter!" Derek cries, clenching his teeth together when he realizes he almost let his voice raise to an unacceptable volume. He does _not_ want Melissa to hear this argument, much less the fact that he's arguing with her son in the first place. He'd rather be here, close to Scott where he can keep an eye on him, than lost in the foster system somewhere. Controlling his voice, Derek continues, "Girls don't matter. Believe me, they only cause trouble. What matters is making it through tonight without killing anyone. What do you think will happen if someone dies tonight, after what happened last night? Do you think the cops are just going to write it off as a coincidence?"

Eyes widening, Stiles says, "They wouldn't. Not without looking into it, like, really thoroughly."

Scott seems to think about this for a moment before shaking his head. "No. No, I can't bail on Allison. I gave her my word that I would be there. That's why you have to help me, Derek." Jutting out his chin, Scott adds, "You owe me."

"I _owe_ you?" Derek repeats with a disbelieving laugh. Scott's the one who won't get his head out of his ass!

"Yeah," Scott says, chin still defiant as he takes a step toward Derek. "You made me this way. Coming to the dance is the _least_ you could do after ruining my freaking life. Isn't it?"

The least Derek could do is just walk away, but the thought makes his stomach turn. He can't just give up on Scott, not when he's right, not when it's Derek's fault that he's a werewolf now. Sighing, Derek says, "Fine." Then a thought occurs to him and he adds, "But if I do this, you have to agree to be part of my pack. You have to agree to do what I say, when I say it and not to hesitate. Hesitation is how someone gets killed." He shares a look with Scott and can feel the way he starts to give in to Derek's leadership, like his beta instincts are telling him to.

"Dude, you can't just follow him blindly," Stiles speaks up, his indignant expression making Derek want to punch him in the mouth. Why is he even _here_? "That's, like, how Nazis operated."

"I said no _hesitation_ ," Derek clarifies, glaring at Stiles. "Not that Scott couldn't ask questions. I'm not _Hitler_."

"Could've fooled me," Stiles says, rolling his eyes away and Derek has to stop himself from going over there and grabbing Stiles by the collar and just shaking him silly. 

Scott waves off Stiles' complaint and asks, "This pack thing, it's really important to you, isn't it?"

Despite the way baring his feelings about pack to these two almost-strangers makes Derek want to scream and huddle in to protect himself, he meets Scott's eye and nods. "We're stronger in packs."

"Strength in numbers?" Stiles asks, his face a little more open now that it's clear Scott is considering joining Derek's pack. 

"Actually, physically stronger," Derek says to correct Stiles.

"But, it's like a team, right?" Scott asks. "We all come up with the plays, but the captain calls which play we do next."

It's an apt analogy, so Derek nods. He can't think of much that's more painful than going to a Homecoming dance with the sole intention of keeping a brand new beta from shifting when Derek himself could very well lose control and end up massacring the students. But it's either deal with that or fall to being an Omega, and it's only a matter of time after that before a hunter notices he's on his own and tries to put him out of his misery. They'd go after Scott, too, and they'd most likely succeed in killing Scott, which Derek can't allow under any circumstances. "Do we have a deal?"

Scott gives Stiles one last look and then swings his gaze back to Derek, nodding. "Deal."

Derek knows he's going to regret this somehow.


	16. Chapter 16

Stiles picks Jaime up from her house, which is kind of sadly dark, because he is a gentleman. He stifles a sigh of relief when she comes to the door wearing a pale pink dress. It contrasts with her darker skin and hair really nicely and Stiles thinks she looks beautiful. He can't help but compare her to Lydia and really wish her skin was fairer and her hair strawberry blonde, but he realizes he's not being fair to Jaime, so he pushes that impulse away. Smiling, he says, "Hey! You look great!" He hands her the box with the corsage and throws the one with the boutonnière into the bushes in a way he hopes is stealthy, but probably isn't.

Jaime side-eyes the rustling bush, but grins at Stiles and says, "I'm glad you like it. The dress, I mean. I hoped you would."

"Well, you were right," Stiles says with a definitive nod. He takes the flower she hands him and pins it to his lapel as he adds, "I totally do."

He hands Jaime his elbow and as she takes it, closing the door behind her without even calling out a goodbye to any parents who might be there, she gives him this look like Stiles hung the moon. Okay, he could probably get used to this.

~~**~~

Except for when he asked Allison to come with him to Homecoming, Scott thinks while stepping up to her door and ringing the bell that he's the most nervous he's ever been in his entire life. While he's waiting for someone to answer, he readjusts his tie, hoping he's not making it worse. Scott puts his hands down at his sides quickly when he hears someone coming and the door opens to reveal a man who must be Allison's father. He has short hair and a few days worth of stubble on his face. He gives Scott a smile that's two parts friendly, one part pants-wettingly terrifying. "You must be Scott."

"Yeah," Scott says before realizing he needs to be way more polite to Allison's dad. "I mean, um, yes. Sir. How are you?"

"Excellent," Mr. Argent replies, tilting his body to look past Scott to his mother's car, which he parked in the driveway. Oh, god! It's okay that he parked in the driveway, isn't it? "Is there someone in your car already?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Scott replies, "Oh! Yeah! I mean, yes, sir. That's just John. My mom's condition for me using the car tonight was that I had to give him a ride." Technically, that's not the truth, because Scott needed Derek at the dance, but couldn't convince Stiles to give him a ride and the McCalls only had one car, so it wasn't like Derek could drive himself.

Mr. Argent narrows his eyes and says, "You know, I sell weapons to law enforcement." 

Scott thinks that if this is an intimidation tactic, it's working, new werewolf healing powers or not. He swallows loudly. "Oh, yeah?"

Nodding, Mr. Argent continues, "I was talking with a few officers yesterday and I heard about the boy the sheriff found a few days ago. John Doe. They said you and your mother took him in. This boy the same John?"

Scott thinks about lying, because Derek is a werewolf and Scott understands that the fewer people who know, the better. But then Scott remembers that he's horrible at lying, so he replies, "Yes, sir. He starts school on Monday, so my friend and I thought he should come to the dance and meet a few people in a, you know, fun and stress-free environment."

Scott gives Mr. Argent his best smile, which the man frowns at like he's judging Scott. Scott really doesn't want to be judged. What if Mr. Argent hates him and that makes Allison hate him? 

The moment of tension breaks when Allison comes hopping down the steps wearing a silver dress that makes Scott's mouth water so he has to swallow again. Allison's shoes are in her hands and as she says an enthusiastic, "Hi!" to Scott, she braces herself with one hand on her father's shoulder as the other slips on her shoe. Scott feels impressed as she effortlessly repeats the action with the other foot. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes!" Scott cries, holding out the corsage Stiles had reminded him to buy. "You look really, really," Scott remembers that Mr. Argent is standing right there watching them, " _great_. Really great. Let's go."

Scott holds out his arm the way his mother taught him and smiles nervously. Allison beams and slips on her corsage, handing her father the box. She leans up to kiss him on the cheek and says, "Bye, Daddy!"

Mr. Argent grunts and Scott can feel him glaring daggers into Scott's back as he brings Allison to the car. "Um, I'm not sure if you got my text or not and I'm really sorry, but I had to give John a ride or my mom-"

"I got your text," Allison assures him, waving at Derek, who pretends to ignore them. "It's fine. As long as _I'm_ the one you're dancing with tonight." She raises an eyebrow and smirks and Scott can't help but let out a happy laugh.

Scott opens the passenger side door for Allison and says, "Totally. I'll dance however many dances with you as you want. I'll dance until...until my feet fall off!"

Scott ignores Derek's massive eye-roll from the back seat and skips around to the driver's seat, powered by the awesome sound of Allison's musical laugh.

~~**~~

Derek wants to drown himself in the punch bowl. It could work. Werewolves could drown to death, just like they could be buried alive and suffocate. Or burn to death. Derek was so stupid. He shouldn't have tried to kill himself with a knife. It was so imperfect and melodramatic. 

Uncle Peter had always teased Derek about the way he entered rooms, told Derek he, "Sure loved making an entrance." Derek had just wanted people to notice him the way they noticed Elliott and Laura.

Derek doesn't want that anymore. Because someone _had_ noticed him and it had ended in the worst way possible. He'd rather everyone forget about him, go on with their lives and leave him alone, but he can't have that. Not anymore. Not since he woke up disoriented six years after he'd passed out, with a new beta and a new pseudo-family, and _responsibilities_.

Currently, his responsibility is to keep Scott from shifting in the middle of the dance floor, and to figure out why the hell Scott is dating Christopher Argent's daughter. Derek hadn't known Allison's last name, or he might not have agreed to come to the dance. He's been trying to get Scott alone since seeing Kate's freaking _brother_ eyeing him from their doorstep, but so far Scott has been plastered to Allison's side the whole night. His heart rate runs a little fast, but it hasn't slipped to a dangerous level just yet. 

Stiles bounded over toward Derek, his date talking to some people Derek didn't know. Nodding his head toward the dance floor, he asked, "How's our boy doin'?"

Derek kind of likes that Stiles refers to Scott as Derek's, but isn't so keen on Stiles being included in the ownership. Pack is pack. Of course, usually no one outside the pack knows about the pack. Does that mean Stiles had to be pack? Derek's old pack _had_ included people who had been perfectly ordinary. Damn it, he wishes he had someone to ask about all this shit he didn't know. 

How is he supposed to hold it together for Scott when all Derek can feel is the pressure of the moon on his skin, tempting him to shift? It calls him like a siren's song, whispering how easy it would be, how glorious, to shift. To run. To stretch his muscles and work his lungs and howl out to his pack under the full moon light.

But Derek is stronger than that. He has to be.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so short and lame! I'm getting ready for an interview tomorrow, so the next chapter will probably be short as well. So sorry.

"You okay, dude?"

Derek shakes himself back into the present and nods at Stiles. Of course he's not okay, but he has to pretend. When Stiles pats him on the shoulder – a simple, friendly gesture – Derek's body flinches. The touch isn't painful exactly, but letting people touch him is the first step to letting people get close to him. And Derek knows how that ends. He knows that some people are so good at bending the truth that he can't hear their hearts speed up when they as good as lie to him. He can feel Scott's emotions because of their bond, but he can't tell Stiles' yet by smell. 

"Is it the full moon?" Stiles asks, pulling his hand away with a semi-hurt looking pout. "Getting under your skin? I mean, everything I've ever heard about werewolves says you guys turn into uncontrolable beasts. Was I led astray?" Stiles gasps dramatically and Derek rolls his eyes.

"Not entirely," Derek replies, finding Scott in the crowd again. He's smiling at Allison like an idiot, but it's better than how he could be acting. "We _can_ control ourselves during the full moon. It just takes practice."

"And an anchor," Stiles adds.


	18. Chapter 18

Derek still doesn't have an anchor. Right now he's relying on counting his breaths and distracting himself with his responsibilities in order to keep from shifting.

A sudden blip in Scott's heart rate makes Derek look up, focusing on the source of the sound, on Scott and Allison lost together in the crowd.

"What is it?" Stiles asks, but Derek doesn't answer. He can feel how Scott's arousal set off a tinge of fear that's snowballing and sending out ripples of power. Scott is going to shift unless Derek gets to him first. Luckily, Scott seems to have some sense left because he's pushing through the crowd toward Derek, Allison standing in his wake, looking incredibly confused.

" _Derek_ ," Scott pleads and Derek grabs him by the arm, tugging him out of the crowd and toward the nearest exit. 

Derek can feel the way his wolf wants to answer and burst out in full glory, so he chants, "Hang on, hang on," as they reach the exit and push out into the cool night air. The moonlight hits Derek like a brick wall and he has to suck in a surprised breath.

He's not surprised when he looks over and sees Scott's teeth long and sharp, his claws pricking into Derek's skin through his borrowed sports jacket. A sudden urge washes over him and Derek grins, shaking off Scott and his jacket as he runs for the tree line. Derek feels his muscles bulge and fur sprout all over his body in ways it's never happened before. Halfway through the lacrosse field, Derek howls, the low sound filling the night air.

Scott's answering howl makes Derek giddy. He turns to welcome Scott into the night, snapping his teeth eagerly. Scott doesn't seem as excited about the prospect of a run. In fact, he shies away from Derek, edging around him like he's – Derek sniffs the air and confirms – like he's terrified. Derek can't get his lips to form words, to tell Scott it's alright and he doesn't mean him any harm, but he manages a questioning sound. Scott is Derek's pack. He promised he would be. 

Scott approaches carefully, one hand out like that would protect him if Derek decided to attack. Derek stands still, but relaxed, huffing at Scott's procrastination. They should be _running_! If Derek's pack – his _real_ pack – were still here, they wouldn't have stopped at a stupid human dance, they'd be out, running wild and free as soon as the sun went down.

Scott reaches Derek and holds his hand in front of Derek's nose, like he's expecting Derek to sniff him. Like a dog would, Derek realizes. Derek huffs and rolls his eyes, which makes Scott grin. "That's still you in there!"

Derek knows it's possible to talk like this, in this form that's not human, but not quite wolf. His mother used this form a lot, even though she was capable of a full-wolf shift as well. She'd told Derek she didn't like going full wolf because she felt she lost too much of her human side. Experiencing just this halfway form lets Derek better understand what she'd been saying. Derek manages to nod his head at Scott and say, "Y-yeah." He takes a few more steps into the woods and looks back at Scott. "Rrr-run?"

Scott glances back toward the school with that love struck expression Derek is starting to think of as his Allison face, then holds up his clawed hands in the moonlight. He gives Derek a nod and then runs past him into the woods. Derek lets Scott build up a lead before giving chase.


	19. Chapter 19

Stiles watches Scott and Derek run off and a big part of him wants to follow, but he knows he won't be able to catch up. He's wearing fancy slacks and tight dress shoes and, oh yeah, he's _human_. Which means his shoulder still aches like a motherfucker, even if he doesnt have to wear it in a sling if he doesn't want to. He wonders how long Scott will stay his best friend, when he's got a brand new werewolf buddy to howl at the moon with. Where did Derek even come from, anyway? Sure, he's all sad and shit, making Scott and Mrs. McCall feel bad for him, but that doesn't mean he's trustworthy. He already cursed Scott with lycanthrope, and Stiles isn't sure he believes Derek's story about not remembering that night.

Scott and Derek are long gone by the time Allison hurries up next to Stiles. Breathless, she asks him, "What happened? Where did they go?"

Stiles has always been good at thinking on his feet. He tells Allison, "Scott got sick. An attack of _something_. D- _John_ is taking him home."

Stiles winces at his slip up. He has to get into the habit of calling Derek, "John." As far as modern science and the Beacon Hills Sheriff department are concerned, the boy found in the woods a few days ago cannot be Derek Hale. Publicly, Stiles has to work under the same assumption, that is, if he doesn't want to reveal the existence of magical time travel and the werewolves who accomplish it.

Noticing Allison's disappointed expression, Stiles quickly adds, "But Scott asked me to give you a ride home. If that's okay?"

A reluctant smile spreads across Allison's face and she shrugs. "Yeah, I guess that's okay."

"Did you," Stiles starts to ask, not quite sure how to finish his thought. He settles on offering Allison his arm and asking, "Would you care to come back to the dance? You can hang out with me and Jaime. I'm sure she won't mind."

Stiles isn't sure of anything of the sort, because he doesn't know too much about Jaime yet, but she's always been really nice to Stiles so he hopes he isn't too off base in thinking she won't mind too much if Allison intrudes on their date. And after all, it's only a first date. Stiles is fairly certain that means he shouldn't expect more than a little making out. It won't be the same as his ultimate goal of making out with and ultimately marrying Lydia Martin, but it'll be good practice Maybe he can get Jaime to make out with him somewhere Lydia will see them. _That_ would be perfect.

"Sure," Allison replies with a decisive nod, taking Stiles' arm. He leads her back into the dance, meeting up with Jaime right away.

"Hey," he says, abandoning Allison's arm and going to stand next to Jaime instead. She is his date after all and if there's going to be any making out, he doesn't want to ruin the possibility by committing a giant faux pas. "Scott had to go. Is it okay it Allison hangs out with us for the rest of the dance? She's new, too, and doesn't know too many people."

"Okay," Jaime agrees with a smile, though her grip on Stiles' arm tightens until it's almost painful. Stiles flexes his (not very impressive) muscles and she loosens her grip slightly. "Hi, Allison. How are you?"

Stiles sighs and wonders how long he has to be here until it's acceptable to leave. He probably has to stay for the Homecoming court and everything, right? Chicks dig that sort of thing. All he really wants to be doing is searching the woods for Scott and making sure he's not accidentally eating someone. Instead, he's making awkward conversation with Allison and Jaime, and then more when Lydia drags Jackson over to them. Eventually, Jaime pulls Stiles toward the dance floor and they sway to the rhythm of a slow song.

"I'm so happy you asked me to come with you tonight," Jaime says, her dark eyes catching the light from the disco ball. Stiles thinks they'd look better if they were a little lighter colored. Green, like Lydia's. "I really like you a lot."

Stiles can feel the way his ears go red at Jaime's comment. "Uh, I like you, too," he says, though he's not sure exactly what he likes about her, except that she's wearing a dress and looks at him like he's practically God. Maybe he should get to know her a little bit better. It's only fair if he's going to use making out with her to his advantage. "So, like, do you have any hobbies or anything?" He winces at the way his voice cracks around the question, like it's mad at him for asking.

Jaime shrugs. "Not really. I go to school. When I'm not in school, I like to take long walks. You know, really get in tune with nature."

Stiles is pretty sure Jaime is a hippie. "Oh? That's ... cool. I, uh, play video games. Watch movies. That kind of thing."

Twisting her mouth away from center, Jaime shrugs again. "I don't know anything about those. I don't have a TV."

Yep, she's totally a hippie.

"That sucks," Stiles says, and he notices Lydia watching them. He lets his arm slip a little further around Jaime's waist, so he's holding her closer. Jaime sighs happily and Stiles realizes that Lydia was actually looking at the refreshments table, because she walks right past them and pours herself a glass of punch. Funny, Stiles would have thought she'd make Jackson get her punch for her. If Stiles was Lydia's boyfriend, he'd get her whatever she wanted, night or day.

"It's okay," Jaime replies, and Stiles looks down to see her frowning up at him. She might even look a little angry. "Are you thirsty? Can I get you some of that punch you're staring at?"

Busted. Stiles shakes his head and pulls Jaime even closer. "Nope. I'm good." Now that he does think about it, he's starting to have to pee, but Jaime lays her head against his shoulder and he feels trapped.

~~**~~

Derek catches a scent that screams _wrong_ just before a bolt zings over his head. This isn't the first time he's had hunters shooting at him, but it's the first time it's happened without anyone else to protect him. Derek is the protector now. He growls into the darkness, pinpointing where the sounds of footfalls betray the hunters' positions. Another bolt swishes past his ear as Derek tilts out of the way. Scott isn't too far off, close enough that the hunters may know where he is.

Derek roars loudly, running for Scott as fast as he can. "Watch out!" he cries, but he's too late. A bolt sings through Scott's forearm, pinning it to a tree. The sound of Scott's pain in his ears, Derek sees red. It's all he can do to keep himself from killing the three hunters after them. He knocks the first two out, but avoids the one that smells too familiar, too much like hurt and betrayal. Instead, he goes to Scott and pulls the bolt from his arm, pulling him along and away from the hunters.

They stop running after about a mile and Derek feels so overcome with anger and grief that his wolf shirks away from his human side. He shifts back, shaking with the sudden loss of power, and collapses to the forest floor, sitting down hard just shy of a crumbling log. Scott crouches next to him, head down and human fingers sunk into the dirt. Before a minute is up, he whispers, more to himself than to Derek, Derek assumes, "Allison's dad shot me." Scott looks up at Derek, his eyes wide as he repeats, "Allison's dad shot me!"

"That's what hunters do," Derek replies, his tone a little harsh. He's more than a little afraid of what hunters in Beacon Hills means. If all the werewolves were killed or had disappeared, the Argents should have left, gone hunting somewhere else. 

"Hunters? What did he think I was a deer or-"

"Chris Argent is a werewolf hunter," Derek explains with a frustrated huff. "All the Argents are. Tonight he saw a werewolf and fired a warning shot."

"Into my arm!" Scott cries, but he looks like he's working through the implications of his girlfriend's family being out for his blood. It's all very Shakesperean, so Derek doesn't reply. Scott rubs his arm, which has healed, though his suit coat has a blood stain now, and asks, "What sort of warning?"

Derek meets Scott's eye and tells Scott what Derek's mother told him when he first asked what the hunters wanted, "Follow the rules."


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles drops Allison off at home, getting out of the car so he can pull his seat forward and let her out of the back. He doesn't walk her up to the door, because Jaime's looking anxious, so he gets back in the Jeep and says to Jaime, "Crazy night, huh?"

Jaime nods and watches as Allison lets herself into the house. Stiles starts the Jeep and pulls out of the driveway.

During the drive to Jaime's house they chit-chat a little about the dance and the upcoming school week and when Stiles pulls up to the curb, he gets out and walks Jaime to her door.

"You're so sweet," she beams, squeezing the wrist of his uninjured arm. "I like how chivalrous you are."

"Heh," Stiles replies, feeling his neck go a little warm at the compliment. "Well, Sheriff's son, I guess. Gotta make nice with the voting public."

"No, it's more than that," she says, batting her eyelashes up at him. "I feel safe around you, Stiles. Like nothing bad could happen."

It's a nice sentiment, but Jaime's words make Stiles want to wince. He _knows_ that bad things happen. He knows that safety is a myth and that living your life chained to the pursuit of it is a waste. He shakes off his knee-jerk reaction and says, "Wow. Okay. Thanks, I guess."

Then all of a sudden, Jaime leans in and presses a kiss to Stiles' mouth. He embarrasses himself by doing something with his lips that he's sure he won't be able to recreate and that is nothing like puckering them. After a second or so, he eases into it, pressing his lips forward into Jaime's and trying not to freak out over the fact that he's _kissing a girl_!

Jaime pulls back while the kiss is still chaste and dry, though Stiles had plans to change that fact that he hadn't quite worked up the courage to go for. She smiles at him again, setting her hand against his cheek (which is a little intimate, but they did just kiss, so okay). "I think," she says, tilting her head a few degrees, "that I could fall in love with you, Mr. Stilinski."

"Uh," Stiles says. This is not normal for a first date, is it? Like, Stiles doesn't know a whole lot about relationships, but this is seriously unusual. Isn't it? Stiles has made a serious error in judgement. This relationship was primarily to get Lydia to notice Stiles as someone capable of dating, not to get Jaime to fall in love with him! Stiles manages to tell her, "Thanks, um, I think. Anyway, I gotta go. Home. Dad's expecting me, so... I'll see you Monday in school."

As Stiles beats a hasty retreat, Jaime calls after him, "Goodnight, sweetheart!" Stiles runs faster.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a few days off due to the holiday. I'm fairly certain I'm irretrievably behind, though I will keep trying!

Scott hears Stiles' jeep rumbling up the road before he sees it. Derek seems to hear it too, because he breaks his stride and cocks his head. Scott asks, "That's definitely Stiles' Jeep, right? I can hear the way one of the axles grinds a little."

Derek nods and stops walking, turning to watch Stiles' approach. When he pulls up, Stiles looks exhausted, but he smiles that way that makes Scott believe he and Stiles will be friends forever. Scott calls shotgun for life. Derek rolls his eyes and gets in the back.

A few minutes down the road back into town, Scott says, "Do you know what really worries me, though?"

"If you say Allison, I will punch you in the head," Stiles groans and Scott wonders if he's picking up tips on how to threaten people from Derek. No, wait, it's just from all the action movies Stiles watches and occasionally gets Scott to enjoy.

"What if she hates me forever?" Scott asks. This could be a matter of his entire future, right here. Whether or not Allison likes him. 

"Good," Derek says from the back, his voice rough and determined.

Scott lets his jaw fall open as he turns in his seat to stare incredulously at Derek. "What? No good! Why would that be good?"

"Because girls are trouble," Derek says, not giving Scott an inch. In fact, he might even lean a little closer. "And girls whose families are hunters are the biggest trouble. You go after Allison and she'll ruin your life."

Scott can't believe what he's hearing. He _knows_ Allison. He knows she's a good person, even if her dad is a little scary. How could falling for a good person ever be a bad thing? And, seriously, who is Derek to talk? " _She'll_ ruin my life? _You_ ruined my life! You bit me, Derek, and now I'm not even human anymore!"

Stiles has been pretty quiet, but he breaks into the conversation now, asking, "Is there, like a cure or something? Derek, even if you didn't _mean_ to bite Scott, he's kinda got a point. But if you help him find a cure, even Stevens, right?"

Scott knows he had good reasons for making Stiles his best friend. He grins at Stiles for a second before looking back at Derek, who's wearing his deepest frown yet. "Well?"

"It's only a rumor," Derek says. "And it's a dumb one. It doesn't even make sense."

"Let us be the judge of that, hey, buddy?" Stiles says with a crooked smile, driving them through a curve.

Derek huffs. "Look, you become Alpha when the old alpha dies, hands over the title, or loses all their betas for long enough. One of the ways to become an alpha is to kill your alpha and take it. The cure I heard about was you kill the one who bit you. But if you do that, you become alpha, you don't get cured."

Because he has to know, Scott asks, "Is tha how you became alpha? You killed yours?" Out of the corner of his eye Scott sees Stiles shaking his head and giving Scott a horrified look while trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time.

Derek's lower lip wobbles for a fraction of a second before he presses both lips together, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans back in his seat. He looks away and doesn't answer the question. That means he's guilty, right?

Before Scott can ask again, Stiles says, "It happened when his family died in that fire, Scott. He didn't kill anyone."

Scott flushes guiltily. He hadn't meant to bring up the fact that Derek's whole family was dead. He hadn't even made the connection. Still a little confused c Scott askes,"So, hypothetically, if I were to kill you, I might be cured?" 

Glaring through a frown, Derek nods.

"And you still told me about it?" Scott can't help but gape for a moment. "We sleep in the same house! I could–"

"No you couldn't," Derek shoots back, only meeting Scott's eyes sideways. "And you wouldn't. How would you explain it to your mother?"

"He's got you there, dude," Stiles says and Scott feels a little miffed that he agrees with Derek. Scott and Stiles are supposed to be best friends. _Forever_!

Of course now that Scott knows the price of the cure, there is no way he could pay it. Take another boy's life just for the chance to put his own back to normal? No, he can't do that. 

~~**~~

Stiles wants to tell Scott about what happened with Jaime when he dropped her off the night before, but Derek's in the car and both of them are dealing with some pretty heavy shit. He decides to hold onto it until school the next day.

After Stiles gets home, he crashes in bed and by the time he wakes up, the house is empty. His dad left a note, which says there's some food in the fridge and that he's off to see to a crime that needs the actual Sheriff on hand.

As Stiles eats his carton of take-out Thai food, he flips on the police scanner in his room that his dad doesn't know he misappropriated. There isn't much chatter and Stiles is halfway through his cocoanut curry noodles and his chemistry homework before an announcement comes over the line. 

It's his dad's voice and he says, "01 calling this an official 187."

"A murder?" Stiles asks no one, noodles dangling out of his mouth. 

"Stab wound same as that young man on Friday. We may have ourselves a situation here, people."

Stiles can't wait to tell Scott.

~~**~~

Derek is not looking forward to going back to school. After the fire, they'd been sure he'd be placed outside of Beacon Hills, so Derek had figured he'd never see Beacon Hills High again. He'd been wrong.

Not only does Derek have to go to school, he has to go and pretend to be somebody else. John Doe. Official name of poor saps who couldn't remember, or just couldn't say their real name. 

Before his first class – algebra II – Derek plans on keeping his head down and interacting with people as infrequently as possible. But, of course, the teacher looks at him like he was a ghost and then makes him introduce himself to the class. 

He stands up, says, "I'm John," and sits back down again. The teacher looks like he wants to ask a million more questions, but he just swallows loudly and starts the lecture.

Stiles and Scott both shoot Derek looks periodically through class, but Derek ignores them. What's important right now is laying low and getting Melissa to let him stay so he can keep an eye on Scott. That means not flunking out of school.

When class is over, a pretty redhead in impossible-looking heels winds her arm around Derek's and says, "Hey, there, new kid." Her tone is friendly, but in that not-to-be-fucked-with way that Derek's mother always used when she was about to give orders to the pack. "What's your deal?"

"I don't have a deal," Derek replies, wincing when he tries to take his arm back and gets nails almost as sharp as claws pressed into his flesh.

" _Everyone_ has a deal, sweetie!" she says, squeezing once more before letting go and strutting toward a blonde boy, whose hand she takes.

Stiles skids to a stop beside Derek and asks, "Do you realize what just happened?" He smells nervous and excited, which Derek tries to ignore.

Derek shrugs and says, "New things make people curious."

"No," Stiles says, shaking his head emphatically, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed out until he lets go of a breath of air. "Lydia freaking Martin just talked to you!"

"So?" Derek changes his books at his new locker and slams the door shut.

Stiles' reply is cut off when his date to Homecoming passes them and says in a coy voice, "Hey, Stiles!"

"Oh, hey, Jaime," Stiles replies, his smile more like a grimace. Derek tries not to find Stiles' reaction interesting. As soon as Jaime is gone, Stiles hisses at Derek, "Lydia Martin rules this school. And also, dibs."

Derek rolls his eyes. Seriously? Stiles is calling dibs on a person?

"I don't care," Derek says, walking toward his next class, Chemistry, and trying to ignore the curious stares directed at him. He's used to blending into the background like his parents taught him, not being the school freak. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply (without using his werewolf senses, because teenagers stink of hormones and emotions).

"Oh, yeah. You're a picture of indifference." Stiles holds open the chemistry room door and ushers Derek in. Scott's already there, staring at Allison. Despite Stiles' furious gesturing, Derek sits next to Scott, leaving Stiles sitting behind them. Jaime sits in the empty chair beside him and Derek can feel the daggers Stiles stares at his back.

Mr. Harris gives Derek a frown when he notices him, but doesn't comment. Instead, he launches into a discussion of covalent bonding. Derek tries to pay attention and take notes, but it's difficult when Stiles keeps hissing, trying to get Scott's attention. 

When Harris turns his back to the class, Scott turns to Stiles and asks, "What?"

Derek puts his face in his hand, because Scott has to be the least stealthy person on the planet, and this is the guy Derek decided to bite. He's blaming the decision on the fact that he can't remember that night. As Harris turns around and glares at Scott and then Stiles, Derek makes a mental note to run out into the woods after school while Scott and Stiles are at lacrosse practice. He _has_ to find that knife so he can put everything right again.

"Mr. Stilinski, what is so important that you have to tell Mr. McCall while I'm trying to impart knowledge on you invertebrates? Come on, tell the class." Harris uses a voice that makes it very clear how much he loathes Stiles. Derek knows that voice well, not that he's ever been on the wrong end of it. He's seen this play act out before with his other classmates. His old classmates. Harris always seems to find a couple to pick on. This year, one of them must be Stiles.

"Just..." Stiles says and Derek can see the moment where he decides to talk back, hear it in the beat of Stiles' heart. "...the romantic nature of covalent bonding, sir! You know, how the two atoms share electrons equally." Stiles grins and beside him Jaime looks like she's about to swoon.

Harris smiles and nods a few times before saying sweetly, "You can tell me all about it in detention tomorrow afternoon. Now, as I was saying..."

Derek hazards a glance back and sees that Stiles' mouth hangs open in disbelief. He looks like he's about to argue, but beside Derek, Scott shakes his head and Stiles snaps his mouth shut. Derek wonders if Scott is always alpha in their friendship and if that will make it harder for Derek to keep Scott in his pack.

Derek doesn't know. He knows what he observed growing up in the pack, but he knows he's missing a lot of knowledge he should have. It irks him and makes it difficult to concentrate on the lecture. Instead of taking notes, he spends his time drawing jagged, nonsense lines with his pen.


	22. Chapter 22

Scott catches up with Allison on his way to lacrosse practice. "Hey, Allison," he says, givin her a smile that he hopes is sheepish enough. He's been trying to talk to her all day, but hasn't been able to get her alone. "I'm so sorry about the dance. I, uh. I texted you."

Allison smiles, though she looks like she might not trust Scott completely. "I got your text, thanks. You had really bad food poisoning, huh?"

Scott tried to hide his surprise and realized that Stiles was indeed the best friend ever. "Yeah, I had an attack of something, alright! I was up all night getting it out of my system." Well, he and Derek had run through the forest all night. Scott would rather have been with Allison, but he could admit to himself that the night of the full moon had been kind of fun.

Allison makes a moue of sympathy and says, "Oh, no!"

Scott grins. "Does that mean I can get another chance with you? I'll totally make it up to you, I promise!"

Allison cocks her head like she's thinking about it and brushes her fingers along his arm. "Am I going to regret this?"

Without even thinking, Scott replies, "Probably," which makes Allison laugh. 

Then a car pulls up to the curb a few yards away and Allison says, "That's my dad. I have to go."

As she starts walking, Scott calls after her, "Can I call you after practice?"

She grins back at him as she approaches the car, calling, "You'd better!"

Scott's heart soars for half a second until he sees Allison's father rounding the car to open the door for Allison and usher her into the passenger seat. Fighting away his fear, Scott makes himself give Mr. Argent a friendly wave, which the hunter returns. 

Oh, yeah. Scott is definitely screwed.

~~**~~

Stiles opens his locker to get everything ready for the detention he has to go to instead of lacrosse practice and a purple, heart-shaped piece of paper flutters out. It, like all the others Stiles has found in his locker since the previous morning, must have been stuffed through the vents. This one says, "I get lost in your eyes. Love, Jaime." They've all been from Jaime, which is serious overkill. Of course this would happen to Stiles. The first girlfriend he gets and she's certifiably psycho. 

He's tried talking to Scott about his predicament, but Scott has been stuck in lala-Allison land since she started talking to him again. Stiles might actually have to go to _his dad_ for advice about how to get Jaime to back off without killing his bunny rabbit. Metaphorically. 

He trudges to the chemistry room, taking his sweet time, because there's no way he's going to spend one second more in detention than he has to. When Stiles reaches the Chemistry room, Harris isn't there yet, even though the clock just ticked over to three. Stiles thinks about walking right back out again, but if Harris does show up and Stiles isn't here, he'll probably end up with two weeks of detention in punishment. 

And then Stiles sees the blood. A dark red pool of it seeps out from behind Harris' lab bench and Stiles feels his heart rush into overtime. Dropping his things, Stiles rushes toward the blood and finds Harris there, a giant, sucking wound in his torso and blood bubbling in his mouth as he breathes. For a millisecond, Stiles thinks about leaving Harris there and finally being rid of the menace if he bites it before someone else finds him. But then Stiles realizes that as much as he loathes Harris, he can't just let him die without trying to help. 

"Shit," Stiles says under his breath, taking off his red hoodie and pressing it hard against the wound. Using his free hand, Stiles digs his phone out of his pocket and dials 911.

After two rings, a familiar voice says, "Beacon Hills Emergency Services. May I have your location, please?"

"Doris! Doris, I'm at the school. The high school. I need–"

"Stiles!" the operator scolds. "You know you're not supposed to call dispatch–"

"Ambulance!" he cries, all of a sudden regretting being the boy who cried wolf. "I need an ambulance, Doris! My chemistry teacher is actually, truly bleeding out right now!"

"Oh," she says. "Okay. Alright, Stiles. You said you're at the high school. In the chemistry room?"

"Yeah," Stiles says, grimacing at the way Harris' breath stutters and his face looks ashen. There's so much blood! "Second floor. He's still breathing, but I don't know for how long. This is really, really, really–"

"Okay, Stiles," Doris says, her voice solid and reassuring. "Everyone's on the way. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? In..."

Stiles recognizes that he's about to have a panic attack, so he does as Doris asks. He breathes in deeply, ignoring the slightly metallic scent of all this blood, and holds it until his lungs feel like they're about to explode. _Voluntary apnea_ , says the corner of his brain devoted to odd facts.

"Now out..."

Stiles lets go of the breath. They keep breathing in and out together until the paramedics show up and the principal pulls Stiles away, taking him out into the hallway. Stiles doesn't hang up on Doris until his dad shows up, pulling Stiles into a tight, safe hug and murmuring in Stiles' ear, "You did good, kid."

"Is he still alive?" Stiles asks. "I tried, Dad. My sweatshirt is ruined, but I tried and–"

"He's still alive," the Sheriff insists, pulling back, but keeping a tight hand on Stiles' shoulder. "They're loading him into the bus now. Why don't you tell me everything that happened?"

Fuck. Stiles is a witness! He's a witness to the aftermath of someone stabbing his least favorite teacher. Stiles has to know _why_. "It's the same as the others, isn't it?" Stiles asks. "That lacrosse player and that 187 from Sunday morning?"

Stiles' dad frowns, but his eyes widen a little like he's surprised Stiles put that fact together. It tells Stiles he's absolutely right. Eventually his dad nods. "We think so. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your teacher?"

"Only every single one of his students, including me," Stiles replies without thinking.

His dad frowns again. "So, he's not the most popular of teachers, then?"

"Uh, no."

The Sheriff makes the humming noise that means he's thinking over something, but he's not ready to share yet. Stiles doesn't press the matter. All he really wants to do is go home and scrub the drying blood off of his skin. 

~~**~~

Scott sees the ambulance pull up to the school while he was in the middle of lacrosse drills (which he is totally owning, by the way), and his gut sinks. It's after school, so most of the people he knows are either gone or here on the field with him. Except for Stiles.

He tries listening for Stiles' voice or his heartbeat or anything, but he must be too far away, because Scott gets nothing. Or he's dead. Stiles can't be dead!

Ignoring Coach's cries for him to, "Come back, McCall, damn it!" Scott runs for the building, throwing his gloves away as he runs and slamming into the back door of the school before he pulls it open. He's got an inkling that he might have bent the hinges, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is finding his best friend. 

He finds Stiles in the hallway outside the chemistry room, talking to his dad. He looks fine, but he smells so strongly of blood that Scott feels like he's having a heart attack. He rushes up to the Stilinskis and demands, "What happened?"

The sheriff explains about Mr. Harris being attacked and Stiles assures Scott that he's fine. Scott can tell that his best friend isn't at all _fine_ , but he's a good enough friend to drop the subject for now. 

After Stiles' dad drags him away, Scott sees that it's the time lacrosse practice usually ends. He texts Allison, _Still up for some studying? Mr. Harris got attacked. Would rather not go home right now._

Allison replies a few minutes later, while Scott is in the shower. He reads her text when he gets back to his locker. _Is he okay? Come right over!_

Scott grins. Allison is such a nice, caring person.

Half an hour later, Scott and Allison are studying in her room after he's relayed everything he knows about what happened to Mr. Harris. He hears someone come home and Allison says, "Relax. It's just my dad. He won't bother us as long as I say hello."

Allison goes off and Scott tries to focus on his homework, but he can't help but let his focus wander along behind her. "Hi, Dad," she says and Scott really tries to tune out, but he can't help but want to know Mr. Argent's reaction.

"Hi, sweetheart. There's a bike outside. Do you have company, or..."

"Scott," she says. "We're studying."

Mr. Argent pauses just long enough that Scott starts to freak out, before he says, "Just keep your door open."

Scott breathes a sigh of relief as Allison agrees and comes back with two glasses of water. "Here you go," she says. "I'd bring soda or something, but my mom thinks sweetened beverages are evil and refuses to allow them in the house."

Scott wonders if Mrs. Argent is a hunter too. Derek seemed to imply that the whole family was in on it. Scott finds it odd that a lady could go toe-to-toe with werewolves, but she was afraid of a little corn syrup.

A few minutes later, Mr. Argent gets a phone call and Scott tries to tune it out, until he says, "That's right. Derek Hale. He doesn't look an hour older than when he disappeared six years ago. I don't– ...no, don't come here. I'll keep an eye on the situation. You know how much heat you got when the kid disappeared in the first place ... _Kate_. No. Why does this matter so much to you? I can handle one underage werewolf. I've got it under control."

Scott knows that Derek is aware of the Argents being hunters, but he hadn't realized how well the Argents apparently used to know Derek. But who is this Kate person? Scott looks over at Allison, who is chewing on a pen as she reads her English homework, and thinks about asking her. Ultimately he doesn't. How would he explain overhearing her father's conversation? He's not as good at lying as Stiles, especially without any preparation. Scott will just have to figure out what's going on some other way.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I didn't win nanowrimo. But, I'm still trying to finish this story before I write anything else (major). Updates will probably be every few days. Thanks again for all your support, especially those of you who took the time to leave comments. I appreciate it so much. Now, please don't kill me for the way I'm leaving this chapter!

Derek is finally able to slip out of the house when Melissa switches back to night shifts the Friday after Adrian Harris is attacked. As far as he's been able to find out from listening to Scott and Stiles talk about it with each other (but not him), the teacher pulled through the worst of his injuries but had yet to wake up. These attacks worry Derek. What if he broke the laws of the universe by coming here? What if something followed in his wake? What if he has at least two more deaths on his conscience?

If he can find the knife, if he can figure out how to undo what he's done, maybe balance will be restored. So Derek waits until Scott has fallen into a deep sleep and leaves the house as silently as he can. 

Derek isn't sure where the Sheriff found him, but it had to have been a somewhat well-traveled route. Derek knows the woods of Beacon Hills Preserve as well as he knows the lines of his mother's face. There aren't too many places an unconscious body won't go unnoticed. He doesn't know what he'll do if the knife isn't in one of those places.

Then it hits him. What if the knife didn't travel with him? What if it's still sitting in his burnt-out bedroom in his burnt-out house at the edge of the Preserve? Maybe he should start there and work his way out. He only has so many hours before he has to sneak back into the McCall house to avoid being caught out. As unnerving as it is, living with another family, Derek can't risk getting in trouble and getting sent out of town, away from his beta and the possibility of setting things right.

Derek runs to the house, sticking to the shadows as best he can and avoiding being seen. He grew up a Hale, sticking to the shadows is second nature, it's in his blood.

The shock of seeing his home not only charred, but also ravaged by six years worth of time he didn't get hits Derek much harder than he thought it would. He pauses, using the oak tree next to the driveway to stabilize himself. Everyone is gone. Everything is gone. Derek owns nothing. He belongs to nothing. He's worthless. Scott deserves a better alpha, or not to need an alpha in the first place. 

With a sigh, Derek heads into the house. The smell of smoke isn't as strong as it was last week (six years ago), but it's still pervasive, scarring the remains of the house. He treads carefully because the floorboards look even more unstable than before. Derek winces at the stairs. Maybe if he gets a few steps of a running start, he can just jump upstairs without using them. Aside from his full moon run with Scott, Derek hasn't tested his abilities since he became alpha. It hasn't seemed important. 

Derek decides to climb the good wall next to the second floor overlook instead of risking the stairs. He's having trouble breathing, but it has nothing to do with exertion. He shouldn't have come back here. But what else is he supposed to do?

Derek picks his way across the missing and burned floorboards, the same way he did last time he was here, and makes his way to his room. Everything looks the same, aside from some cobwebs and a few extra broken windows. Derek thinks that of he wasn't so tired, he'd be irate at the assholes who've come here to throw rocks through his windows. 

There's a baseball on the floor of Derek's room and for a second, he thinks it's one of his. But it's dusty, not charred, and it matches a jagged hole in the window Derek used to press his nose against when he waited for his mother to come home. Derek moves to the window and stands next to it, letting his body relaxant still the way he'd been taught. 

When the floorboard under Derek's shoes stops creaking, he hears it – tires on the gravel driveway. For a moment, the sound makes Derek's heart leap in hope that he hasn't been forgotten here, that everything is a giant mistake and somebody else will put it right. Then he realizes that best case scenario, Melissa found out he was gone and has come here to find him. Worst case scenario, the tires belong to hunters who are here to kill him.

Again, he flirts with the notion of letting them, but there's too muh at stake. He has to get out of here. Headlights flicker through the woods and Derek catches a flash of silver in the corner of his eye. The knife!

The knife is half under the charred wreckage of Derek's bed, and he wonders if it skittered there when he disappeared or if it got there some other way. He doesn't remember. All he remembers is a sharp prelude to pain and then darkness. He should have known he wasn't actually dying. Dying means being destroyed, burnt up, drowned, severed over and over again until his body can't heal any longer.

The car pulls up to the house much sooner than Derek expects. He knows he's pressed for time, so he grabs the knife and starts running for the big window at the end of the upstairs hallway. It's completely broken out, so he should be able to make a relatively quiet escape. Derek hears car doors slam three times in rapid succession and he can't help but turn toward the noise.

His stomach drops and pain slices along his leg as his right foot crashes through the floor. As he catches himself, Derek drops the knife and it slides along the floor, bouncing off the wall and out of reach.

Someone outside asks, "What was that?" Derek doesn't recognize the voice, so he assumes it belongs to someone hostile.

Derek curses to himself and pulls his leg out of the floor as silently as possible. Warm blood trickles down his leg and into his sock, but he can feel the way his skin knits together, healing the wound. He gets his foot free just as one of them comes through the front door.

Derek hunches into the shadows, wishing he was still as small as he had been a few years ago, when it was easy to hide. He takes a hestitant step. Another. Derek picks up the knife and holds it blade down. He wishes he knew whether or not he could use the damn thing as a weapon, or if whoever he stabs will end up six years in the future. 

One of the strangers walks under the balcony and the other two are outside, so Derek makes a break for it, running toward the window and leaping through it. He rolls as he lands in the leaf litter, up on his feet and sprinting for the tree line before he can think about it.

He stumbles a little when a voice he does recognize cries, "Holy crap! It's him!" He runs faster, the knife's handle death-gripped in his hand.

Derek doesn't realize he's been shot until the crack in the air gives purpose to the intense pain in his shoulder. It feels like the bullet is lodged in his bone, but Derek knows it'll have to stay there until he's well away from the hunters who shot him. Being shot is bad enough, but he'll heal. Being caught would be far worse.

As Derek runs, the pain gets worse and worse, which confuses him until he remembers his mother's lessons about how hunters sometimes use Wolfsbane bullets. He can't heal the wound until he balances out the Wolfsbane with its own ashes. He's going to die.


	24. Chapter 24

Stiles pulls up to Scott's you'd a couple minutes early, hoping to catch Scott while he's still in the middle of his Cocoa Puffs so he can ask his best friend what to do about all the creepy notes Jaime keeps leaving for him. Without bothering to knock, Stiles uses his key and lets himself in the house, heading toward where he can hear Scott rummaging around in the laundry room.

Before Stiles gets there, Scott calls, "You're here early! Good!" He rounds the corner into the hallway and claps Stiles' shoulder as he passes.

Under his breath, Stiles says, "Still not used to the freaky werewolf hearing." Then louder, he calls after Scott, following him toward the kitchen. "Why is early good? Scott?"

Scott slings his bag over his shoulder as he comes back into view, three pop tarts caught in his lips. As he steps into his shoes, he pulls the tarts out of his mouth and says, "Derek's gone. I think something's wrong."

"Okay," Stiles says slowly. "Are you sure he didn't just walk to school early?"

"His stuff's still here," Scott says, pointing upstairs toward what Stiles guesses must be where Scott thinks the guest room is upstairs, but is actually Mrs. McCall's bathroom. "And it doesn't smell enough like him. He left hours ago."

Sighing, Stiles says, "So call your mom. Hell, call my dad. They'll look for him, we'll go to school. And on the way–" Stiles tries to mention that he wanted to talk to Scott, but he's cut off.

"What if it's _werewolf_ related? Stiles, we're the only people who know!"

"So?" Stiles fails to understand how just because they know Derek is a werewolf, that makes this their problem.

Scott looks at Stiles like he's crazy and says, "We're the only people who can help! What of he's really in trouble?"

"What if he decided to take a mental health day?" Stiles argues. "He sure as hell looks like he needs one."

"Would you just–?" Scott huffs.

Stiles weighs the costs involved in upsetting Scott over his dumb Alpha's disappearance against getting in trouble for skipping class. Well, Stiles' philosophy has always been when all else fails, go with the best friend, despite how misguided he may be. "Fine! Fine, let's go find your little werewolf buddy."

Stiles pulls open the front door and a body crashes into him like it had just been leaning on the door. Stiles just barely manages to ease the person to the ground before he realizes who it is. "Derek?"

Scott crashes to the ground beside them, taking in Derek's disheveled, unconscious appearance. There are leaves in his hair, one leg of his jeans is ripped up and bloody, and the sleeve of his jacket looks like it's been dipped in a vat of blood. Drops of gooey red liquid mar the porch around where Derek must have been standing.

"What happened?" Scott asks, meeting Stiles' eyes like he's supposed to know what the fuck is going on. 

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know. Aren't you guys supposed to heal?" He crouches down to take a better look at Derek's injuries, even though he really doesn't want to. Stiles goes as far as rolling Derek a little so he can see why his one side is so bloody. Stiles has seen enough crime scene photos to know at least some of what has happened. There's a hole in the back of Derek's jacket and another in the skin of his shoulder underneath. "Looks like he's been shot."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Scott argues, lifting up Derek's legs and turning him so he can close the front door. "I got shot with an arrow the other night and it took less than five minutes to heal. Why isn't he healing?"

Shaking his head, Stiles says, "I think we're gonna have to ask him." He draws back his fist, says, "Don't kill me for this," and punches Derek in the face.

Derek wakes up confused, but relaxes slightly when he focuses on Scott's and Stiles' faces. His eyes are bloodshot and his face as pale as death.

"What happened?" Stiles asks, giving Derek a hand up when he clumsily grasps for him. "Why aren't you healing?"

Derek breathes hard a few times before licking his lips and saying, "Wolfsbane."

"That's a real thing?" Stiles exclaims, putting Derek's arm around his shoulder and starting to head for the kitchen.

"Wait!" Scott cries.

Stiles stops, wincing when Derek's weight pulls on his back wrong. It's a good thing Derek can't weigh much more than Stiles does, or he wouldn't be able to help at all. "What?"

Scott takes Derek from Stiles, which, okay makes sense because Scott has super strength so this has to be easier for him. "Mom's gonna be home in fifteen minutes. We have to get him out of here!" Scott takes a breath, cocks his head, and asks, "What's wolfsbane?"

Derek groans in a way that's mostly his normal groan of annoyance, but Stoles can hear some pain in there, too.

Scoffing, Stiles asks, "Haven't you ever seen The Wolfman?"

Scott shakes his head.

"You are so unprepared for this," Stiles scoffs, getting out ahead of them and opening the Jeep so Scott can bundle Derek into the back seat. He looks over at Scott and then back at Derek, "So where are we going?"

"Home's out, school is out," Scott says. "What about your house? Is your dad working today?"

Stiles doesn't even have to think about it. He has his dad's variable and sometimes unpredictable schedule memorized so he knows exactly when he has to start worrying if his Dad isn't home. "Working all day."

"So, we'll go there until we figure out–"

"I know," Derek calls from the back as Stiles pulls out of the McCall driveway.

"Know what?" Scott asks. "Someplace we can go?"

Stiles watches through the rearview as Derek glares for a second before answering, "I know … who shot me. Need another … bullet."

"What does that mean?" Stiles asks as he turns out of Scott's subdivision and toward his own.

"Argent," Derek gasps.

"Allison's dad?" Scott looks like he can't believe it, even though Chris Argent shot him with an arrow just this month. 

Derek shakes his head and struggles to sit up, rolling his injured shoulder and wincing. "Kate."

"Who's Kate?" Stiles doesn't know, so when Scott looks at him after asking Derek, Stiles shrugs. "There's a Kate Argent?"

Derek nods again, coughing something black into the sleeve of his jacket.

"Oh, ew," Stiles can't help but say. "So this lady shot you, and you need another one of the bullets? What, for revenge?"

Derek's voice has devolved into a whisper. "Cure."

"Man, you don't look so good."

Scott brushes off Stiles' concern and asks, "How are we going to get to this bullet? We can't just _ask_ Allison for it. She'll find out I'm a werewolf?"

"Some other way," Derek insists, coughing again.

Stiles thinks for a moment until he remembers, "Aren't you supposed to go study with Allison after school?"

"Yeah," Scott says, before nodding back at Derek. "But now..."

"Now you need to go find out where Kate Argent is," Stiles explained, knowing that it took Scott a little more time to work through the implications of things than it took him and they didn't have time for that. Not with Derek dying on his upholstery. "Go to school, talk to Allison, and find that bullet." Stiles changes direction and drives toward the school.

Scott presses his lips together and tilts his eyebrows up in that worried look that makes him look like an actual god damn puppy. "Is he going to make it that long? Are you going to make it that long?"

"Don't know," Derek replies, head lolling back. "There's a last resort."

Stiles sighs as he pulls over near the drive into the school to let Scott out. "I don't like the sound of that."

Scott jumps out and closes the door, but he grabs the open window frame and says, "Take him to your house. I'll let you know as soon as I find something."

Stiles wonders when, exactly, this became his life.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've had this written for awhile, but I've been traveling and taking care of my toddler and working, so I didn't make the time to post it. Any comments you might have about where you think the story might be going or should go would be very much appreciated.

Scott is halfway down the hallway between his locker an Allison's when Jaime steps in front of him, an intense look on her face. "Scott."

Worried about Derek, Scott huffs. "Look, I'm kinda in a hurry, so if I could–" He tries walking around Jaime, but she blocks his way again.

Flashing a bright smile that reminds Scott of the one his mother uses when she has to be polite to people she hates, Jaime asks, "Where is Stiles this morning?"

"Uh, sick," Scott replies, trying to get around her again and failing. At this rate, he's going to have to bust out his werewolf moves to get around this girl.

"Is he sick, or is he avoiding me? I've sent him five texts that he hasn't responded to."

"Wait, what?" Scott asks, more than a little surprised. 

Stiles hasn't said anything about getting texts from Jaime that he doesn't want to reply to. Stiles usually replies to all his texts. Scott knows Stiles likes to have the last word, so the only reason Stiles wouldn't reply to Jaime's texts was if he was purposely ignoring her. Which sort of makes sense. Scott has been meaning to ask Stiles about the pained expression on his face whenever he sees or talks to Jaime. Scott thought he was just nervous about having his first girlfriend – man, Scott could relate – but maybe it's something else.

"Look," he says, meeting Jaime's eyes straight on, "I don't know if anyone's told you, but Stiles has this epic, ten- year-long crush on someone else. I'm not sure it's going to work out between you and him."

Jaime nods and her lip wavers. "Why would you say that? How can you be so cruel? What do you have against true love, Scott?"

" _Nothing_!" Scott cries, watching as Allison leaves her locker and heads down the hall. "I gotta go!"

"Scott!" Jaime calls, but he's made his escape, so there's no way he's looking back now.

Scott kind of, sort of uses his werewolf powers to dodge his way through the hall and get to Allison before she gets to her first classroom, but he makes it in time. "Hey!" he says, putting himself in Allison's line of sight. "Hey, Allison! Hi!"

She looks slightly taken aback, but Allison returns his smile and says, "Hey, Scott."

"So, are we still on for tonight?" he asks, wincing at how desperate he sounds. "Like, you know, of you want." Oh, yeah, like that saves face at all. Scott fights the urge to roll his eyes at himself.

"Yeah!" Allison says, her tone bright, which relieves Scott, because it seems like either she didn't notice his total desperation fail, or she just doesn't care. "I mean, my Aunt got into town last night, but I'm sure her being there won't change things. Right after–" the warning bell rings, and Allison gets sheepish. "Right after school" she calls over her shoulder as she runs toward her classroom.

On his way to class (seriously late, but whatever), Scott texts to Stiles that the plan is still on and thinks to himself, _This is going to be the longest day ever_.

~~**~~

"Scott says he's still going over there after school," Stiles says, slipping his phone back in his pocket and looking toward Derek, who sits on the other end of the couch. He can't help but curl in on himself and hopefully not bleed on the upholstery. Stiles gives him an appraising look and asks, "Are you going to make it that long?"

"I'm fine," Derek says between gritted teeth, though he knows he can't look as scary as he's trying to be. His whole body feels like it's on fire and his fucking _bones_ itch and he just wants it to be over with.

Stiles laughs softly, sadly, prodding at one of his eyes with a long, slender finger. "Yeah, you're fine. And I'm the abominable snowman."

Derek tries to hold it back, but his body's trying to fight off the wolfsbane and he needs to cough. One cough turns to several and then it becomes difficult to breathe around them, the edges of his vision going dark as he gasps for breath. When it settles down and Derek pulls himself together again, Stiles is crouched in front of Derek, gripping his uninjured shoulder tightly as if that's going to help.

The thought flits across Derek's mind unbidden: maybe it would be better if Scott didn't show up in time. Then Scott would no longer be weighed down by Derek and his incredibly bad luck. But, as soon as he thinks it, Derek knows it's wrong. Just because Derek would be dead doesn't necessarily mean that the hunters would just leave Scott – an untrained, newly alpha werewolf – to live out his life. They'd either try to cage him or kill him and if Kate Argent is back in town, Derek's money is on them trying to kill him. At least no one knows yet that Scott is a werewolf. No one aside from Scott, Derek, and Stiles.

Stiles frowns and dithers for a moment before asking, "Should I go over there? No one's going to be home in the middle of the day. In and out, easy-peasy."

Derek thinks Stiles must be legitimately insane.

"Well, there's no need for that expression," Stiles huffs, leaving Derek alone and going back to his seat on the couch. "I'm telling you, I could do it."

Derek wants to laugh, but he knows it would only hurt. "I'm telling you, these guys aren't going to care that you're a human kid. If you break in, they'll kill you."

Making an indignant noise, Stiles says, "And we're sending Scott in there this afternoon, so how bad could it be?"

Derek can't think well enough to argue with Stiles, so he glares instead.

"Well?"

"He's got a-a cover," Derek stutters. "He'll be invited in. Better than no reason for being there."

Stiles glares back for a moment before huffing and saying, "Fine. I won't go and we'll wait around all day while you get worse and worse. It's your life, buddy. Just don't come crying to me when you're dead."

"There's no such things as ghosts," Derek says, mostly to keep himself from calculating how long he can put off having Stiles implement plan B without actually dying of the wolfsbane in his system.

"Oh, so werewolves are the only creepy-crawlies that actually exist?"

It shouldn't surprise Derek how little Stiles knows about his world, but it does. "No."

Stiles gets this frustrated look on his face that's really more amusing than Derek thinks is appropriate. Maybe the poison is making him lose his mind.

"Why are you enjoying this?" Stiles asks, hands all but resting angrily on his hips. "Aren't you in life-threatening peril?"

"You'd rather I complained nonstop about the excruciating pain I'm in?" Derek asks, rotating his shoulder and clenching his teeth over a hiss at the flare of pain that shoots through his body.

"Yes!" Stiles cries, before pausing like he's thinking better of it. "No. Just– Oh, I'm distracting you! I'm totally distracting you from the pain! Yeah, I can keep doing that."

"Oh, god," Derek mutters, pressing his thumb at the space between his brows, where it feels like his pulse is pounding.

"What should I talk about, though?" Stiles asks, tapping his chin with one finger. "Hey, do you play lacrosse?"

Shaking his head, Derek replies, "Baseball."

"Baseball?"

Rolling his eyes at Stiles' surprised tone, Derek explains, "It's easier not to lose control playing a sport with less physical contact. I swim, too."

Stiles looks Derek up and down like he's trying to imagine Derek playing baseball or swimming rather than slowly dying of a bullet wound laced with wolfsbane. "Once this is over, you'll have to fight Jackson for captaincy of the swim team."

"I don't want to be captain," Derek says. If he wasn't feeling like he might have to claw his own face off, he might have explained why it was a good idea to stay carefully mediocre as a werewolf athlete, but as it is, he feels just too damn tired.

"Oh," Stiles replies, scratching the bridge of his nose. "Um, okay. Whatever lifts your luggage."

"What?"

Stiles looks at Derek for a moment, his mouth open and speechless. Then he takes a sharp breath and says, "You missed that one, huh? Jeeze, you really did skip almost six years, didn't you?"

Derek frowns. He knows why the Sheriff and Melissa don't believe him, but he had thought Stiles did believe. Even before Stiles found out about werewolves, he'd looked so eager to believe that Derek was telling the truth about how he'd arrived here in 2011. But, Derek needs conversation to distract himself from the pain. He asks, "So the thing about luggage is something that happened recently?"

"Yeah," Stiles says before explaining where the phrase came from. It always comes back to sex, doesn't it? "Hmm, what else?"

"I know some guy named Obama is president and the economy sucks and the Argents are back in town. What else is there?"

Stiles nods a few times, like he is thinking, and then holds up a finger, "My personal life! I mean, I was planning on going to Scott with this, but he's been a little preoccupied lately, so..."

Derek can't care less about Stiles' personal life, but it's better than nothing, so he shrugs. "Whatever."

"Okay, good. I mean, I don't know how much you know about girls, but I think I have good reason to believe that my girlfriend is a certified nut job." Stiles then proceeds to explain, in excruciating detail, every single one of his interactions with Jaime. "I know you're probably not all with it, but do you have any advice anyway? I mean, I only wanted to go out with Jaime to make Lydia notice me, but this is just too intense, you know?"

"Break up with her," Derek said through gritted teeth.

"It's not that easy. I mean–"

"It _is_ that easy. She's a girl, not a precious fucking flower. Just go up to her and tell her you want to break up."

Stiles sighs. "Yeah, I know. It was kinda nice, though, having someone fawn over me. If it wasn't for the completely inappropriately fast progression, I'd dig having someone fawn all over me all the time."

"That's not love," Derek says, trying not to be reminded of how he thought he'd loved Kate. "It's just a stupid, little crush."

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek and asks, "Seriously, what have you got against relationships?"

Derek sighs. He doesn't ever want to talk about what happened with Kate. "Can we change the subject? I _really_ don't want to talk about your stupid girl problems."

"Okay, okay," Stiles replies, hands up in surrender. "Jesus. Is it–? Do you have something against girls? Are you gay? It's totally cool if you are. Danny's gay and everyone likes him."

Derek doesn't see the point of responding, so he doesn't. Stiles can think whatever the hell he wants.

"And, I mean," Stiles says hesitantly, chewing on one of his fingernails. "I'm not exactly straight."

"Really?" Derek asks dryly, his tone flat and sarcastic. He's been in Stiles' presence more than a little recently, and his smell is difficult to ignore. "I never would have guessed." He taps his nose and smirks.

After a surprised moment, Stiles rolls his eyes and says, "Oh, fuck you, Derek." There's no bite to his words.

"Not even if it was my last day on earth," Derek shoots back. "Oh, wait."

Stiles barks a laugh before covering his mouth and pointing a pseudo-angry finger at Derek. "That's not funny," he says as he pulls his hand away, but the corners of his mouth are still turned up. "It's not."

Derek shrugs with one shoulder. It felt kind of nice, joking the situation away. It's what everyone in his family always did. Derek's mother had always said that being a werewolf was always dangerous. If you took every life-threatening situation too seriously, what was the point of living?


End file.
